


Pleasantville

by mcgarrygirl78



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Case Fic, Drama, F/M, Friendship, Humor, Romance, Tragedy, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-20
Updated: 2011-10-20
Packaged: 2017-10-24 19:27:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 32,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/267013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mcgarrygirl78/pseuds/mcgarrygirl78
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Oh my God, please tell me we are not looking at a very twisted version of an Ira Levin novel.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pleasantville

**Author's Note:**

> I need to thank aspenlit for her unwavering support. All my other friends who were there for me to rock the universe. I've never written anything like this before and not just because it was case fic.

Emily leaned back in the plastic lounger. It was covered with a beach towel but there was still heat escaping and burning her skin. She had slathered on the SPF 75 and hoped the sun goddesses showed her some mercy. Chanel sunglasses covered her eyes. She wore listening buds in her ears and Manolo Blahnik slides on her feet. It was a blazing September day but she wasn’t going to be able to dip in the crystal blue pool. That was a real shame.

“How's it looking, Penelope?” Emily asked quietly. She was speaking into her iPhone. It was her window to tech analyst Penelope Garcia, who could see her from the lair in Quantico.

“Peaches, that place has more cameras than the house on Big Brother. I have you from three different angles. Nice bikini, by the way.”

“I feel so damn naked.” Emily replied through clenched teeth. “This sucks.”

“You're beautiful and you so know it. Nice navel bar…I knew you were a bad girl in a past life.”

“What are you talking about? I still am a bad girl.”

“I just bet you are.” The tech analyst giggled.

Emily wore a fire engine red bikini. It didn’t leave a lot to the imagination. If she were out on the beach in her real life, which was rare, she would go more for a tankini. There were times she wore one-pieces as well but she would never wear something this revealing. With all the cameras around, she wondered who other than Garcia was enjoying the show.

“I feel like I'm on display.” Emily replied.

“You are. Unfortunately it’s for a guy who likes to slice women up.”

“Thanks for the reminder.”

Hotch came out of the sliding glass door and down from the deck. He carried iced tea and even though he wore sunglasses, he squinted against the harsh sun.

“You're in my sun.” Emily said, looking up at him.

He put the glass on the table beside her chair and crouched down to her level. Hotch grabbed the bottle of sunscreen.

“I think you need some more protection.” He said, pouring some into the palm of his hand. “This sun cannot be good for your fair skin.”

“Frying is a concern. Penelope says she can see me from three angles.”

Hotch wanted to look around but knew that wasn’t a good idea. Instead he rubbed his hands together and danced them across Emily’s stomach and torso. She did her best not to openly gasp.

“Well hello there, Boss Man.” Penelope laughed in Emily’s ear.

“Don’t be a smart ass, Penelope.” Emily said.

“Mmm Peaches, how do those hands feel? Is it everything you imagined? I want details.”

“I'm hanging up now.”

“See ya.”

Emily turned the phone off. She looked at Hotch while his hands caressed her skin.

“When were you going to tell me about the navel bar?” He asked. He could hardly believe Emily had a piercing through her stomach. At the same time it seemed very like her. It was cheeky, sexy, and for the eyes of only the few lucky enough to see her without a shirt. How he would manage not to play with it between his fingers was beyond him. The whole outfit was beyond him, in a good way.

“It’s not a protocol violation.” She replied.

“I didn’t say it was. I just…”

He didn’t finish and Emily didn’t push. She just leaned forward until her lips were not quite touching his. He tilted his head, seeming to get even more into the imaginary kiss.

“You think Penelope’s still watching?” He asked, barely moving his lips.

“Penelope isn’t the one we should be concerned about. We’re here to give someone a show. We need to take it up a notch if this is gonna play anywhere close to believable. I know its not easy being out here for the world to see, but…”

She’d barely gotten the words out before his tongue came out and slid across her bottom lip. Emily gasped but it only took a moment for her to get into the game. The kiss turned passionate as Hotch scooped her up into his arms, starting toward the house. One of her overpriced shoes slipped off her foot but she could care less.

The kissing continued with one or both of them occasionally coming up for air. Hotch went into the house, walked through to the living room, and up the stairs. He walked down the hall into the master bedroom, into the master bath, and put Emily down on the vanity counter. It was the only room in the house without cameras.

“I lost my shoe.” Emily said, hoping her voice wasn’t trembling too much.

“I'm sorry about that.” Hotch mumbled, going over to close the door.

“You're sorry about my shoe?”

“I'm sorry that we have to do this to capture a serial killer.”

“It'll be an interesting story to tell the kids years from now. So Daddy and I…”

“I don’t think…”

“Our first kiss was under the mistletoe two years ago at Morgan’s Christmas party.” She replied. “That will always be a wonderful memory. This is just our job and we can do it because we kick ass. We save lives, even when we have to alter or compromise our own to do it. I learned that from this really awesome guy I work with and admire.”

Hotch was quiet for a while. He leaned against the cool of the door and took deep breaths. His body was working against him; he kept his fists clenched and his eyes closed.

“Are you alright?” Kicking off the other useless shoe, Emily hopped off the counter and walked toward him.

“Don’t…I'm alright.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. Yes.” Hotch opened his eyes as his body began to relax. “I'm fine.” He lied.

“Well I guess we’ll hang out in here a while and…”

“We’ll talk strategy.” He had almost fully returned to Hotch mode. “We’ve been here for six days; what do we know so far? The faster we put two and two together, the faster we can get back to normal.”

“Actually we have to make it equal four first.”

Emily opened the bottom cabinet and grabbed the spiral notebook they wrote everything in. It was inside a bucket and covered by rags. She also covered herself with a tee shirt Hotch left on the counter earlier. She looked into his eyes and could see how grateful he was for that. Back to normal…yeah, that wasn’t going to happen anytime soon. Emily used to think she was fast. This was moving at a speed even out of her control.

***

**Quantico, VA: Seven Days Before**

Morgan, Reid, and Prentiss watched Section Chief Erin Strauss walk into Hotch’s office on a rainy Thursday morning. If they had spoken all would’ve revealed the same ominous drop in their stomachs. A few minutes later, JJ walked up, knocked, and went into the office as well.

“What was that?” Morgan asked.

“I have no idea but it cannot be good.” Emily replied. “What are you thinking, Reid?”

“Well, Section Chief Strauss, JJ, and Hotch can only equal one thing.”

“We’re looking at a high profile case.” Rossi said, joining the threesome by their desks.

“Yes.” Reid nodded.

As if on cue, the Unit Chief’s door came open. He strode out of his office ahead of the women, jaw tightly clenched. He didn’t break his stride to speak.

“We’re meeting in the conference room now.”

Prentiss grabbed her venti Kitamu, tried to ignore the gnaw in the pit of her stomach, and followed her teammates.

000

“Scottsdale needs our help.” JJ said, bringing up three pictures on the screen. “Three women have been murdered over the course of three months in a very exclusive gated community called Pleasantville.”

“There’s nothing pleasant about those photos.” Morgan mumbled.

“Yore right, Agent Morgan.” Chief Strauss said. “The press has already dubbed him The Sunday Morning Slasher.”

“All the victims were killed on Sunday morning between the hours of 10am and 12pm.” JJ added.

“Church time,” Prentiss said. “Traditionally anyway.”

“When do we plan to address the bigger issue?” Dave asked. He looked at Strauss, leaning back and crossing his arms.

“What's that Dave?” Hotch asked.

“The victims all bear an uncanny resemblance to someone in this room.”

“That’s why I'm here.” Strauss replied. “Agents Hotchner and Prentiss will be going undercover.”

“What?” Emily almost spit out her coffee. “Is this a joke?”

“Three dead bodies are no laughing matter, Agent Prentiss.”

“I wasn’t implying that they were, ma'am. I just don’t think undercover is a good idea, or even feasible. Why do we need to be secretive? This unit travels to cities all over North America and never needed a veil of secrecy. And excuse me for what you may call insolence but since when do you sit in on conferences…ma'am?”

Hotch, who was standing behind Strauss, did his best to contain his smirk. Morgan didn’t do as well. Strauss didn’t seem bothered by the exchange.

“Agent Jareau, please fill the team in with the rest of the information from Scottsdale PD. Agent Morgan, you're the lead on this. Wheels up in an hour. Agents Hotchner and Prentiss, please come with me.”

“What about Reid and I?” Rossi asked. “Don’t we get some orders barked at us? I mean, Spencer can be a soft touch but I think I can take it.”

“Agent Rossi, as tough as it might be, please try not to get your ass kicked by the locals.” Without waiting for a reaction, Strauss strode out of the conference room.

Emily sighed, stood, and walked around the table. She and Hotch walked out of the room together. She wanted to know what was going on. Hotch’s face was completely unreadable…he was in full Hotch mode.

Was he for or against this? Was this his idea or thrust upon him by the powers that be? They went into his office and Hotch sat down behind his desk. The two women remained standing.

“Please sit down, Agent Prentiss.” She said.

“I’d rather stand.” She wanted her feet planted when the blows came.

“Prentiss…”

Emily looked at him when he said it. It wasn’t the typical snappish tone Hotch used when he thought an Agent was pushing it. He just wanted her to listen; she could see that much in his eyes. That’s all she could see. So she sat in one of the guest chairs while Erin Strauss sat in the other.

“All three murders have taken place in the exclusive enclave of Pleasantville. There are about 65 homes there…it’s a tight-knit community.”

“Then it should be even easier to find the Unsub.” Emily replied. “An outsider would stand out like a sore thumb. Why do the police even need our help?”

“The people who live there have a lot of money.” Hotch said. “They don’t like the idea of the police butting into their personal lives. Scottsdale PD is facing a brick wall. They'd surely erect the barb wire when federal agents came in asking too many questions.”

“So we break it down. We've been there before Hotch. All we need is two people to talk and it crumbles like a house of cards. Undercover is a serious venture. It takes time to establish trust, build rapport…you know this.”

“I do.” He nodded.

“Senator Kathleen Carville lives in Pleasantville.” Strauss said, tired of beating around the bush. It was better for Prentiss to get the tirade over with quickly so they could get to work.

“I knew it; this is politically motivated. No way, count me out.” Emily stood.

“Emily…” Hotch stood as well.

“No way. You think I look like those women, don’t you Hotch? You want to dangle me like bait for a crazed serial killer so we don’t ruffle the feathers of some junior Senator? I won't do it. What are you thinking?”

“You will do it if you want to keep your job,” Strauss replied. “The FBI is on this case and we are sending our best. Despite whatever issues I have about how some things were done in the past, I know this team is the best. This is the way it has to be done.”

“Please don’t threaten me, ma'am; its never worked to your advantage. Shall I remind you of what happened the last time the upper office thought undercover was a good idea? Agent Reid and I almost lost our lives.”

Hotch closed his eyes when she said that. For weeks after the cult takedown he had nightmares about it. He could hear her over that bug, saying she could take it. They had to listen to Cyrus beat her and do nothing to stop it. Hotch didn’t even know how to comfort her when it was finally over so he stayed away. Only he would have to live with his regrets about that. He’d just file it away with all the others. It wouldn’t happen that way this time, he’d make sure of it.

“Chief Strauss, I would like to speak with Agent Prentiss alone…please.”

Nodding, Strauss left the room. Hotch could tell Prentiss was about to explode and he would rather it be on him than Strauss. Calm had settled over the land, tentative calm, and he planned to keep it that way for as long as he could. He held up his hand to stem the tide.

“Three women are dead.” He said. “Stopping the Unsub is all that matters.”

“You think I don’t know that? I also know that you don’t have any undercover experience.” Emily reasoned. She spent two years doing small time undercover in St. Louis and Cleveland. It wasn’t the deep cover stuff Morgan had done but Emily knew the game.

“All the victims are married women. You need to be a married woman.”

“So I can appeal to the Unsub and he can come after me?”

“So you can possibly appeal to the Unsub and we can gain entrée into the secretive world of Pleasantville.”

“I don’t like this.” Emily shook her head.

“You think I don’t know that?”

“How long would we be undercover?”

“The faster we get in, the faster we get out.”

“That’s not a real answer, Hotch. I think we need to take this a little more seriously. What about Jack? What about my family? Are we just disappearing for God knows how long?”

“The rest of the team will be working the case as well. We’re gonna find this guy sooner rather than later. We’ll be coming at the case from both sides.”

“Hotch…”

“There's a serial murderer out there and we need to stop him, Prentiss. It’s not the most ideal situation; those in the top office want to do things differently than I would choose. I don’t like the idea of catering to a politician but the community is closing ranks. Breaking down the walls from the inside is the best way to solve this case. It’s not about dangling you as bait, I assure you. It’s about appealing to who those people are and using it to find out who’s murdering them. I’ll be there with you the entire time; we’ll do this together.”

“Yeah, OK.”

There wasn’t much fight left in her. In the end, capturing the Sunday Morning Slasher was the most important thing. The last victim, Aubrey Andrews, was killed just two days ago. If the Unsub struck once a month thus far that gave the BAU approximately 28 days to break the case. Perhaps coming at it from both angles was the best idea.

“Let’s just get this over with.” She mumbled.

“You need to be dedicated to doing this and doing it well.” Hotch replied.

“Thanks, but I know how to do my job, Hotch.”

He sighed, not sure that this would work at all. He went to the door and told the Section Chief to come back in.

“Are we ready now?” Strauss asked. “We don’t have a lot of time.”

“I'm ready.” Emily said, not believing a word of it. This was bad on so many levels.

***

Penelope knocked on Hotch’s office door later that afternoon and poked her head in.

“I've been summoned.”

“I didn’t call you, Garcia.” Hotch said.

He and Prentiss were going over the case files. They shared a huge barbecue chicken sandwich while they looked over police reports, statements, victimology, and crime scene photos.

“Section Chief Strauss told me to come and take some good photos.”

“Photos?” Prentiss raised an eyebrow. “Of what?”

“C'mon, you guys are a married couple now…there has to be photo evidence.”

“What kind of photo evidence?” Hotch hoped he didn’t sound as nervous as he felt. This was ridiculous; he needed to calm down. It was Prentiss and he could do this. “Do what you need to do, Penelope.”

“Don’t make it sound so painful.” Garcia smiled. “OK, I need you to do me a favor. I need you to curl your lips upward just a bit and squint your eyes some. We humans call that a smile.”

Emily laughed and Hotch looked at her. Then he looked at Garcia.

“That’s not funny. I know how to smile.”

“Show me, I remember seeing it once or twice. It was nice too…ladies love a good smile.”

Hotch sighed, uncomfortable with the whole display. The faster he smiled and got it over with, the better. It wasn’t as if he hadn't been pretending in one form or another for most of his life. He put on a grin that made the tech analyst beam.

“Ooh, that’s a nice one. How about a little Blue Steel…make love to the camera.”

“Garcia.” He replied through clenched teeth.

Penelope took several pictures of Hotch smiling. He stepped back so she could take a few of Emily doing the same.

“Give it to me good, Peaches. Ambassador Prentiss paid thousands for that lovely grin.”

“Hey, I never wore metal.” Emily pointed at her.

“Uh huh…tell it to someone who doesn’t know you. OK, time for the happy couple shots.”

“Won't it be suspicious that all of our pictures are taken in an office?” Emily asked, coming to stand next to her boss. There was still some distance between them, Emily liked it that way.

“Don’t you worry, Peaches…Photoshop here I come. I can't, however, Photoshop you two closer together. Could you pretend to know each other?”

Hotch seemed shy as he stepped closer and it almost made Garcia laugh out loud. These two were so clueless; the smarter people always were. She slipped her camera around her neck and took hold of both of their hands.

“Put your arm here,” She moved Hotch’s arm around Emily’s waist. “Look this way.” She moved his head. “I need you looking at him like the hunk of man you think he is.” She moved Emily’s chin upward. “Now work it. Work it like it’s never been worked before. Where do you crazy kids want to spend your honeymoon?” She asked, stepping back and snapping away.

“St. Thomas.” Emily replied, wishing she could turn away from him.

“Are you a bikini or a one-piece girl?”

“Just take the photos, Penelope.” Hotch cleared his throat as he held Emily close. Oh my God, she smelled so damn good.

Garcia moved them again, side by side. Then she wanted Hotch with his arms around Emily from behind. Then she insisted that Emily hop on his back and though the Unit Chief scoffed, he held her up there. Penelope couldn’t help but comment on what a gorgeous couple they made as she snapped picture after picture. Prentiss felt a little too comfortable in Hotch’s arms. She felt he was a little too uncomfortable in hers. When the photo shoot was over, she went over to the window to breathe.

“The photos will be ready tomorrow for your trip to Arizona.” Garcia said.

“You can do all that in one night?” Hotch asked.

“The nighttime is the right time, Boss. Anyway, the boy is gonna help. It’ll be fantastic.”

She smiled and left the room. Hotch looked at Prentiss standing by the window. There were so many words on the tip of his tongue but he didn’t say any of them. He just sighed.

“I have this feeling in the pit of my stomach that this is a bad idea.” She said. Emily didn’t want to say it. She didn’t want Hotch thinking she was weak or afraid. She was nothing of the sort. She faced some scary Unsubs in her time but this was different. It was personal in more ways than one.

“If it gets too out of control then we pull out. I'm asking you to trust me, Emily. I would never let anyone hurt you.”

“Is this your operation or the powers that be?” She asked.

“This is a BAU case. We’re going to get this guy.”

Emily nodded. She didn’t know how she felt about anything at the moment. It was probably for the best to brush it all aside anyway. For a certain period of time she was going to have to be someone else. It was time to start moving around the boxes in her head. Emily Prentiss had to stay behind…it was time for someone else to emerge. Who, she wasn’t quite sure yet. That might be just as complicated as the case they were working on.

***

“Detective Parsons?”

“You must be Agent Jareau.” The boyishly handsome cop shook her hand. “I'm damn glad to meet you.”

“This is the rest of the team; SSAs Rossi, Morgan, and Dr. Spencer Reid.”

“This is it?” he asked, shaking their hands. “No offense but I was expecting the cavalry.”

“Did Section Chief Strauss make you aware of SSAs Hotchner and Prentiss’s role in the investigation?”

“Yes.” Parsons nodded. “I have to say I don’t really like it but we aren’t getting anywhere and I don’t like that either so I complied. C'mon in the conference room; we’ve turned it into a little war room.”

“What can you tell us about Pleasantville?” Derek asked, following the detective.

“Scottsdale itself is pretty upscale. Every city has its trouble spots but the average family income is at about $80,000 here. For residents of Pleasantville it’s five to ten times that. It’s a gated community and they keep it locked tight like a fortress. The people who live there are not used to being pushed around by overworked public servants. They lawyered up faster than the Gambino family. Hell, we could barely get them to admit connections to the victims.”

“Who gave the Unsub the telling moniker?” Rossi asked.

“Monica Sheehan. She’s a crime reporter for the _Scottsdale Tribune_. Monica is good people but very ambitious. This is her Pulitzer story. When the victims are supposedly above average, the case becomes intriguing.

“The regular folks at Whole Foods, the mall, or Scottsdale Community College don’t feel as if they need to be afraid. Instead they're just fascinated. Unfortunately that fascination has not helped us in the least. Each victim has a box.”

He pointed to the three brown boxes on the table. “Victimology, as you guys call it, was the easiest thing to work on. We gathered as much as we could. It’s possible that someone simple like Shannyn Jorgenson’s hair stylist could be the key to breaking the case.”

“You do realize that due to the isolated nature of this community that the killer probably lives in Pleasantville as well?” Reid asked.

“You would think so Dr. Reid, but it’s possible that the opposite is true. People of a certain social status never have to leave home to enjoy the trappings of the good life. Everything from yoga instructors to grocery delivery and even sex work runs through that enclave on the daily basis. Good luck. My officers are here for anything you need and there is always coffee brewing in the room next door. We keep a pot of regular and decaf as well.”

Parsons went to leave and JJ stopped him. She wanted to know if there was anyway she could meet with Monica Sheehan. Sometimes people were more likely to talk to the press than the police. Anonymity was nice. So was feeling as if you were important even if you weren't.

“I’ll see what I can do, Agent Jareau. Give me a couple of hours.”

“Thanks, Detective, and JJ is fine. We might be here a while, may as well get to know each other.”

“Well I'm Jeremy.” He smiled and walked away.

JJ went back into the room, looking up at the women on the corkboard. Looking at pictures of them in their past lives next to pictures of their mutilated bodies was quite disturbing. So was the resemblance to her friend. JJ wanted to think it was all a coincidence but there was really no such thing in this business they did.

“You might want to introduce yourself as taken the next time he comes through.” Derek said. “He was feeling you, JJ.”

“Something fierce.” Rossi added.

“Let’s talk about the victims.” She said.

“Well they’re repeatedly strangled.” Reid said. “Aubrey Andrews had three different handprint positions on her neck.”

“It’s manual?” JJ asked.

“It’s not done to kill.” Rossi replied. “Most likely just to knock the victim out so the real fun can begin.”

“That’s the sexual assault and then the stabbing.” Morgan said. “I think our Unsub might have some kind of deficiency and might not be able to overpower a fighting victim.”

“They would fight being strangled though.” Reid said.

“Not if he catches them off guard.” JJ said. “Perhaps while they were doing something else or getting them from behind in a blitz attack.”

“OK, so strangulation first,” Morgan wrote it on the dry erase board. “Then he rapes them, stabs them, and binds them afterward.”

“The hands are bound before the strangulation, lending again to the theory that he may be in some way physically deficient.” Rossi said. “Or he could just believe himself to be.”

“We have no physical evidence on scene.” Reid said. “No blood, semen, or fingerprints. All of the room is meticulously cleaned except for the blood soaked bed where the victims are found.”

“Three victims, and not a single shred of physical evidence,” Morgan pulled a file from Shannyn Jorgenson’s box. “These crimes were planned to the final degree.”

“We could be looking at someone who’s done this before.” JJ said. “Leaving nothing behind three times is not pure luck.”

“We may have to wait for this guy to slip up.” Rossi said. “Until then we learn everything we can about the lives of these three women. The Unsub lurks among them…let’s shake the dirt from the silk sheets.”

“I’ll get Garcia on the line.” Derek put his cell phone on speaker.

“I’ll call the Section Chief.” JJ took her iPhone from her hip. “She wanted to know when we were settled in.”

***

“How long have we been married?” Emily asked.

They were about 45 minutes into a four hour flight from Quantico to Scottsdale, Arizona. They would land at the one runway airport and then the real fun would begin. Emily looked through the photo album that Kevin and Garcia made in less than 24 hours. It said ‘ _Our Love_ ’ on the front and was filled with pictures of them. She couldn’t believe how amazing it was…had to keep telling herself that none of it was real. She looked over at Hotch, who was making tea.

“We’ve been married for a year and a half.”

“I've never liked the idea of a winter/spring wedding.” She replied. “I've always been an autumn girl.”

“Really?”

“Mmm hmm.” Emily nodded. “The colors are better for my skin tone.”

“OK, well we’ve been married a year. We tied the knot last September in St. Thomas.”

“No,” Now she was shaking her head. “We got married on a friend’s property in Potomac, Maryland. It was a small, intimate gathering of about 45 friends and loved ones. Then we went to St. Thomas for a week before traveling to Kenya for safari.”

“If you know all of this then why are you asking me?” Hotch couldn’t help but smile as he sat across from her. They hadn't been on the jet alone since that trip to Milwaukee. That was the case that changed everything in more ways than one. It seemed as if lately more things were changing than staying the same. Hotch didn’t think that was the way it was supposed to be.

“Well your opinion matters.” Emily said. “So I’m asking for it.”

“I truly appreciate that. We’ve known each other for four years.” Hotch said. “We met through mutual friends at a polo party. I was smitten from our first hello.”

“I was skeptical. You were too cute.”

“There's such a thing as too cute?” He took the photo album from her and turned the pages. This was his life except that it wasn’t at all. It boggled his mind and intrigued him at the same time.

“Penelope’s talent astounds me.” Emily replied. “This photo album is perfect.”

“The Warners are a very happy couple.”

“Who?”

“Bill and Susan Warner.”

“Susan?” Emily made a face.

“You don’t like it?” Hotch asked.

“Well…”

“You're stuck with it.” He handed her a Burberry wallet. “All of your credit cards and your driver’s license say it.”

“Credit cards?”

“Mmm hmm. I take care of my Susie Q…she has expensive tastes.”

“Cute.”

Emily opened the wallet and found her driver’s license, a platinum Amex, and a platinum Visa. There was also a Discover Card, Nordstrom, Macy’s, and Barnes and Noble.

“Ooh look, I can read.” She quipped, holding up the card.

“You have a Master’s Degree in Communications from Penn.” Hotch replied.

 _Great_ , Emily thought, _I'm a Desperate Housewife with an education_. This wasn’t going to be easy.

“So what do you do while I look pretty?” She asked.

“I'm in international finance.”

“That’s very interesting. It’s also sure to make you a lot of friends.”

“That’s the plan.”

They were quiet for a while. Emily looked out the window at the fluffy white clouds. When she was a little girl, she used to tell her parents that she saw angels out there. Thirty years later she didn’t know if that had been the truth or her imagination. She didn’t see anything today.

“Did Garcia tell you about the cameras?” Hotch broke the silence.

“I can't figure that out. Is it the Unsub or a twisted version of the 21st century gated community?”

“Everyone is Pleasantville is being watched but none of the murders seem to be on video. Also, the house is wired for full video but no audio, which is good. The same contractors did every home; Rossi and Morgan will talk with them later today. Garcia hacked into our camera system but she can't trace it back to anything but an anonymous mainframe. She’s still working on it.”

“She's gonna watch us the entire time?” Emily asked.

“So is the Unsub I would assume.”

“So we’re two newlyweds being watched?”

“Yes.” Hotch nodded.

“Tell me again why we’re doing this.”

“We’re solving the brutal murders of three women and trying to stop a fourth.”

Emily nodded, wishing she had a stiff drink.

“OK, so we honeymooned in St. Thomas and Africa?”

***

“How long did construction take?” Morgan asked.

He and Rossi were standing out in the hot Arizona sun with Matt Phillips, one of the owners of Fenton Contractors. They didn’t come up with the idea of Pleasantville but they built it. Now they were working on a Sheraton Hotel. In some parts of the country it looked like construction was still a booming business.

“It took almost two years for 65 units.” Matt puffed on a Marlboro. “That project was our baby; our blood, sweat, and tears. It made us but could’ve broken us at the same time.”

“Were all the houses built exactly the same?” Rossi asked. It was hot but he appreciated the dry air. He hated to sweat.

“No. Each has its own charm. People don’t want McMansions, Agent Rossi. The homes on the top of the hill are prime real estate. There is a fantastic view of Scottsdale from up there. We’re talking $2 million opulence.”

“What kind of amenities do the homes come with?” Morgan asked.

“Everything a wealthy person could want and more.” Matt replied.

“Does that include state of the art security?”

“Damn straight. If the undesirables somehow manage to make it through the guard tower, they damn sure aren’t making it into the house. The place is locked down like Fort Knox and that’s the way they like it. Senator Carville lives up there but I ‘spose you know that.”

“Yeah,” Rossi nodded. “What about security inside the homes? Are there nanny cams, that kind of thing?”

“There are cameras everywhere.” He threw down the cigarette, smashing it into the dirt with his boot tip. “Look, you didn’t hear this from me but there are even cameras in the streetlights outside.”

“Who controls them?” Morgan asked.

“Every homeowner controls their own security, even street cams. As far as I know there isn’t one big company pulling the strings once someone is in a home. These people like control; they don’t want to answer to anyone.”

“Who did the installation?” Rossi asked.

“They're called The Syndicate, and yes they’re probably as shady as they sound. 50 of the plots were already purchased before construction and we were building them to lavish specifications. Michael Carville, the Senator’s husband, handled The Syndicate deal. In fact he handled lots of things on the Pleasantville deal as a whole. The Syndicate has a shit ton of government contracts for security, and not just the US government.”

“What business is Mr. Carville in?” Rossi asked.

“Hell if I know. You know how some guys are just rich…he’s one of them. He plays squash, has pansy hands, and drinks dandy drinks at three in the afternoon. He’s always in meetings, that kind of thing.” Phillips shrugged. “Don’t ask me.”

“Well, we appreciate your help, Mr. Phillips.” Morgan shook his hand.

“Anytime. I hope you catch the bastard. Serial killers are very bad for business.”

Rossi smirked, opting not to shake hands as he and Morgan walked away.

“Guess who’s not going to welcome us with open arms?” He asked, climbing into the driver’s seat of the Suburban. He and Morgan thumb wrestled for the keys…best of three. The old man still had it.

“We’ll call Garcia and get some more info on them.” Morgan flipped open his cell phone. “We’ll find their weakness and attack it.”

“Tell me how you want it, Delicious.” Garcia said into the speaker phone.

“Baby Girl, I got Rossi with me.”

“Ooh, I get Delightful and Delicious…I’ll give you the Players discount. What do you need?”

***

The metallic blue Mercedes SLK 300 Roadster pulled into the driveway of 42 Forest Lane. Hotch got out of the car and looked around. It was late Saturday morning and the temperature hovered close to 100 degrees. There was some activity out on the street but not much.

There were no children playing or dogs running around. A shapely blonde with iPod buds in her ears jogged by but she paid Hotch little mind. He closed the driver’s door, walking around to the passenger side. He opened it and held out his hand for Emily to get out as well.

“Quaint.” She said, looking around.

“They don’t call it Pleasantville for nothing.” He replied.

“I really think they might, Bill.”

“You're getting used to that name.”

“It’s yours, isn’t it?”

“I guess it is.”

A man across the street waved and Hotch waved back. They watched him turn and talk to a woman on the porch reading a book. Soon the couple was coming their way. Hotch slipped his arm around Emily; they both put on their best photograph smile.

“Are you the new neighbors?” The man asked.

“We just closed on the house last Thursday.” Hotch replied, a slight Southern lilt making his voice sound buttery and soft.

Emily got butterflies in her stomach just hearing it. She knew he was born in Manassas, Virginia and raised in Richmond, but the Southern boy had disappeared a long time ago. It looked as if she might have him back for the time being. She hoped he knew what he was doing.

“I'm Alex Ortiz, good to know you.” He shook Hotch’s hand.

“Bill Warner, the pleasure is mine.”

“This is my wife, Ellen.”

“Hello.” The pretty redhead shook Hotch’s hand before sizing up Emily.

“I'm Susan.” She said.

More handshakes and smiles followed.

“Where are you from, Bill?” Ellen asked. “I love your accent.”

“I was born and raised in Virginia, all over the state. Then I went to New York for a while, and DC, but I can't seem to shake the accent.”

“Don’t forget London and Berlin honey. You were there for a while too.” Emily said.

“If I’d picked up a German accent in my thirties that would’ve been quite a feat.” Hotch joked.

They all laughed.

“A lot of us are transplants.” Alex replied. “I'm originally from San Antonio. I don’t know too many people born in Arizona, except my beautiful wife of course. She was Miss Arizona 1990.”

“What a feat.” Emily plastered on her smile and squeezed Hotch’s side. He grimaced some and she let go. She forgot he’d been injured there and reminded herself to apologize if she hurt him.

“It’s not much.” Ellen said. “That was 20 years ago so if that were still my claim to fame I might be a little sad.”

“We’re having a cocktail party on Monday evening.” Alex said. “We want you to come and join us; meet some of the neighbors. It’s a good lot around here and the best way to know people is to drink with them. That’s when all the good stuff comes out.” His smile was handsome, charming. “What's your poison, Bill?”

“Maker’s Mark.” Hotch replied.

“I appreciate a man who likes a good whiskey. I’ll be sure to have plenty on hand. And you Susan, fuzzy navels perhaps?”

“I prefer vodka martinis.” Emily said, still smiling. Her face was starting to hurt.

“Well alright.” He smiled too. “It’s good to know you both. You're just gonna love it here.”

“Thank you kindly.”

Hotch shook his hand again before he and Emily turned and walked up their driveway to the porch of the imitation Georgian Colonial-style house. There were several long columns leading up to the white front door on the tiny slab of a porch. There was an even bigger side porch for entertaining guests or nice desert evenings outside. The brick looked real but Hotch wasn’t sure. It was bigger than most Georgians these days but there was still something homey about it…at least from the outside.

Emily could feel Alex’s eyes on her as Hotch unlocked the door; she didn’t like it one bit. She wore a purple sundress that barely skimmed her knees with matching 2” slides. When they went into the house and closed the door all she wanted to do was get out of those damn shoes. Unfortunately they had no idea who was inside with them so she had to keep up the façade.

Hotch kept his arm around her as they walked through the large downstairs. There was the foyer, living room, dining room, and the spacious kitchen. She finally slipped out of the shoes as she climbed up onto one of the bar stools. Hotch grabbed two glasses from the cabinet and went to the refrigerator for some iced tea. He was parched; needed to remember they were now in the desert.

“I'm sorry about that.” She said.

“What?”

“When I grabbed your side earlier. I need to be more careful.”

“I'm OK.” Hotch said.

“Yeah, but from now on I won't do that.”

“They let us in rather quickly, don’t you think?” He wanted to change the subject. It would do his mind no good to think about Emily grabbing him anywhere.

“They're being neighborly; think we’re just like them. All it means is that they have nothing and everything to hide.”

“I definitely don’t like the way he looked at you.”

“Well that makes two of us, Bill. I don’t think that makes him the Unsub. I hope you took into account that most men, and more than a few women, will stare at me. You wanted this.”

“Don’t say it like that. I don’t want men ogling you. I absolutely do not want that. We’re doing our jobs.” He put a glass of iced tea in front of her.

“I want to be working this case, not smack in the middle of it.”

Emily took a deep breath. Hell they hadn't even been married a day and she was already a nag. She had to let it go…this was the way the job would get done. It was too late to complain now. Bill and Susan Warner were the newest residents of Pleasantville and it was time to make some friends. She leaned across the island, surprising Hotch with a sweet kiss on the lips. He almost had time to enjoy it; it ended before he realized it was really happening.

“I'm going to start unpacking and call Garcia.”

“I think I’ll make us a bite to eat. I’ll be up in a little while.”

Emily nodded, taking her glass back through into the living room. The house was lovely; surely to impress those who were impressed by such things. It was filled with plush furniture, woods and lacquers. There were beautiful paintings on the walls, tasteful imitations of famous scenes. It had a slight hotel suite feel to it, not that Emily had ever been in such a huge hotel suite. It was more like a 5 bedroom, three and a half bath prison. She had to do her best to keep from getting shanked.

***

“Monica, I really appreciate you meeting me on a Sunday.” JJ approached the table of the outdoor café. The heat was starting to get to the FBI Agent. This wasn’t as bad as New Orleans, which was soupy on its best day this time of year. Dry heat didn’t suddenly mean comfortable though. It was still hot.

“Are you kidding?” The brunette smiled. “A reporter would be an idiot to turn down the opportunity to talk with a real FBI profiler.”

JJ almost said she wasn’t a profiler but why ruin Monica’s fantasy? Why ruin her chance to get some vital information? So she just smiled.

“This isn’t exactly an interview.”

“Well surely you can tell me if the BAU is in town looking for the Sunday Morning Slasher. Nothing else in Scottsdale would be worth the energy.”

“I heard from the police department that you started calling the Unsub that.” JJ said.

“Unsub?” Monica raised her eyebrow.

“Unknown subject, that’s what we call the killer until their identity is revealed. Giving him a headline grabbing name only fuels his fantasy.”

“Well I like Unsub, its intriguing…I might use it for smaller pieces in the future. For this guy, that won't sell papers. I need to sell papers, Agent Jareau.”

“Have you been able to talk to any of the residents of Pleasantville?” JJ asked. “Your articles are quite engrossing. It seems as if you're privy to aspects of the investigation.”

“I'm a good journalist. Scottsdale may be my first stop but it surely won't be my last. The editor thought he was appeasing me, giving me crime beat. What kind of crime is in Scottsdale, right? Well, I'm showing him. If I sometimes have to use what I got to get what I want I don’t have a problem with it if that’s what you mean.”

“No, I mean have you talked to any of the residents of Pleasantville.”

“Not them per say…” Monica stopped. She knew she needed to choose her words carefully. This was her story and she wasn’t gonna let some FBI Agent pull the rug from under her feet. “Let’s just say that the rich people in their Ivory Towers employ lots of people and those people like to talk. They want to talk anonymously of course. They have families to feed too. Some people have to do that without trust funds and Fortune 500 salaries.”

JJ almost smirked. Monica Sheehan didn’t know anything about that. She was the child of oil barons from Fort Worth; born with a platinum spoon in her mouth. Now she wanted to play Brenda Starr and people’s lives were at risk. JJ tried to rein in her disdain.

“What are they telling you?” She asked.

“I thought you said you read the articles.”

“I have but I'm sure every tidbit wasn’t deemed newsworthy. It could have been a piece of gossip or a maid’s speculation. You could have the answer to some very gruesome crimes right in your notes.”

“Well you're not getting those.” Monica said. “I have rights too you know.”

JJ took a deep breath. She was getting exasperated and needed to pull back. Women were dying and all she cared about was notes. Jeremy Parsons was a little off on his assessment of Sheehan as good people. She would try not to hold that against him. If she used what she had to get what she wanted then surely a lot of people were wrong about her.

“Can you tell me anything, Ms. Sheehan? The slightest thing could really help.”

“What do I get for my generosity?”

“You'll get the FBI’s gratitude…and three exclusive questions with an Agent. That happens only when the case is solved.”

“I can live with that. Something’s really strange in Pleasantville.”

“Do you care to elaborate?”

“I don’t know much but I think there are some sex games going on there that even those with questionable morals might question.”

“And you haven’t written about it?” JJ asked.

“I just have whispers and bits; no real corroboration. A Senator lives in those hills. I'm not saying that doesn’t make it true. I'm just saying I refuse to tank my career before it even gets out of the gate. Once I get something real you can be damn sure I'm running with it.”

JJ was sure about that. She wanted to solve this crime even more to send shady reporters like Monica Sheehan back to the ambulance chasing they were good for.

***

“Let’s play The Newlywed Game.”

“Hmm?” Hotch looked up from the photo album. Yes, he was going through it again; he couldn’t seem to stop going through it. He was imagining all the happy times the Warners had together. He quickly looked back down at the laminated pages when he saw Emily. “Em…Suz, what are you wearing?”

“We’re newlyweds, Bill.” She smiled. “I thought I would wear something to please you.” She could hardly say it without giggling.

Emily wore red hot pants, a white tank top, and a pair of red high heels. Her raven black hair was in pigtails. Hotch knew he wasn’t going to be able to look her in the eye. Pleased was the wrong word for what he felt right now…it was more like dizzy. Last night, their first night in Pleasantville, they barely touched in bed. Hotch knew if the Unsub was watching that they had failed every test.

Garcia called to inform him that, yes, there was some slight ability to see them in the dark. It wasn’t night vision or anything but if you wanted to see something, you could. Well, wasn’t that just fantastic. Hotch told himself before restless sleep took over that he had to leave Aaron Hotchner’s inhibitions and worries behind. Bill Warner was in love, and lust, with his wife. Everyone was supposed to know that.

He was no actor but how much acting would he have to do to play a man enraptured with this woman? Emily was beautiful, inside and out. She was witty, sharp, and sexy; her quiet intensity drove him up the wall with desire. He wanted to know her, he wanted to love her, but they both stopped short of ever acknowledging that.

Hotch didn’t know how many times she’d failed or been hurt. He wanted to tell her that he would never do that to her. She was safe with him; he was alive with her. Of course that was just theory…he never had the strength to test it or even say it aloud. Yet they all knew. Hotch was sure of it.

“I'm quite pleased.” He cleared his throat, putting the photo album on the nightstand. “C'mere, baby.”

Emily grinned. Hotch would never call her anything like that. She could barely get him to stop calling her by her last name. She was starting to like Bill Warner. Last night in bed had been awkward. Emily didn’t want it to be but it was. She didn’t want this assignment but they had it; they needed to work it. She stayed awake well into the night, deciding that if they were going to succeed then they had to embody Bill and Susan Warner.

She and Hotch were in such a strange place right now. They were clearly friends, OK, not so clearly. They knew each other well, could read each other, and often knew what the other was thinking. But that frightened them both since they had so much they wanted and needed to keep to themselves.

Every time Emily thought she was on the right track, Hotch made a sharp turn. If she felt him getting too close to her, she would run away. The one kiss they shared showed her with alarming clarity how damn good it could be. Emily was sure that was the most frightening thought of all, not that it wouldn’t work between them but that it would.

She turned over and looked at Hotch’s sleeping face. This was her husband, the man she loved and desired. It honestly wasn’t too much of a stretch. Only a fool wouldn’t know that she was crazy about him. Pushing around all the boxes and bins in her head, she went to bed Emily Prentiss but knew when she woke up that woman would be gone.

She kicked off her heels, crawling from the bottom of the bed into his arms. She straddled his lap, pressing her breasts against his chest. She felt Hotch’s breath hitch in his throat. He put his hands on her hips.

“You're not wearing a bra.” He whispered. Hotch didn’t know why he bothered; the place wasn’t wired for sound.

“A woman doesn’t sleep in those; they're uncomfortable. There are much more fun ways to be bound, William.” She didn’t know how he would respond to that. Emily needed to know how far she could push this. The Unsub could see them but not hear them. This conversation was just for them.

“So um, the newlywed game?” Hotch moved his hands up her back. She was actually wearing his tank top. Oh my God, it looked so good on her.

“Where did you take me on our first date?” Emily asked.

“Well in an epic feat of 20th century womanhood, you asked me out.”

“Ooh, aren’t I a bold one?”

“Oh yeah, Susie Q, you are.” Hotch grinned and his dimples came out to play.

Emily couldn’t help the sweet kiss she planted on his lips.

“Where did I take you on our first date?”

“Why don’t you tell me?”

“Mmm, we went to a dark DC bar where we drank and argued about politics.” She said. “I managed to fall madly in love with you despite the fact that you're a Republican.”

“Politics, religion, and sex are three things intimates shouldn’t discuss.” Hotch said.

“Well you're a Southern Baptist Republican who likes sex a lot, Mr. Warner.”

“You're not a Republican?” Hotch didn’t know how he was still capable of speaking. This was like a weird dream. His professional side kicked in quickly; they were both doing their jobs. Another side of him was bewildered that his job involved a half-dressed Prentiss in his arms talking about sex. There was no way that his body wasn’t going to respond to her body. Her body was fucking amazing. Why did it have to be so amazing?

“No honey, I'm not.” Emily caressed his face. “I’m a Clinton Democrat but we manage to find enough in common that it really doesn’t matter. Except in election years, then things can get rather heated. We like to argue sometimes though. Making up is such fun. Tell me something fascinating about you.”

“I um…” Hotch cleared his throat. “Me or…”

“I don’t care. Just talk to me; I want to know you.”

He wasn’t sure he wanted to talk anymore. She smelled so amazing and felt even better than she smelled. Hotch was sure Emily could feel his erection; she was sitting right on top of him after all.

“I actually have something else entirely on my mind, Mrs. Warner.”

Without warning, Hotch plunged the room into darkness. He slid under the sheet with Emily still on top of him. She exhaled as he held her close, his hands still on her back.

“We can barely be seen in the dark.” He whispered.

“Garcia said if the Unsub really wanted to he could see something.” Emily replied, trying not to shiver when his hot breath rushed in and over her ear. “Where do you like to touch me, Bill?”

“Suz…” Hotch’s voice was suddenly raspy; his throat was dry.

“Hmm?” She sat up some and caressed his face. She wanted to kiss him so much but knew that she wouldn’t be able to stop. It was going to be hard to get in deep without getting in deep. Emily grinded her hips on his instead. That probably wasn’t much better; Hotch practically whined. “We’re going to become the king and queen of dry humping. I feel fifteen again.” Dry humping was more like thirteen but surely Hotch never needed to know that. “So we like to have sex with our clothes on?”

“He can't see that we haven’t gotten naked.” Hotch reasoned, with the little reason that was left in him. “When we capture him, if he asks, you can tell him your husband is intimidated by the awesome power of your perky breasts.”

Emily laughed into the crook of his neck. Her lips lingered there, placing sweet nibbles on his pulsing skin. Then she kissed the side of his partially open mouth. Hotch tried to deepen it but she was too far away. When his hands pressed the small of her back, Emily arched into his touch.

“Count to 100 and this will be over.” She said, biting back a moan.

“People will really think you want it elsewhere if I only last seven minutes.” He grumbled. “I can last longer than seven minutes…at least let me go for ten.”

Hotch hated this. He hated that they were being watched, even in the dark. He hated that the person watching them could be making plans to hurt Emily. He didn’t want this assignment at all but took it for all the right reasons. The worst part of all, for tonight anyway, was engaging in simulated hot sex with a woman he wanted to have real hot sex with so much he thought he might scream.

“Well, if you have it in you Bill, I can take it.”

“100, 99, 98, 97…”

Emily laughed again. It was a joyous sound that filled Hotch like warm scotch on a cold night. Not that there would ever be cold nights in Scottsdale. He took the opportunity of her distraction to flip them over on the mattress.

“Oh my God,” She gasped, freezing and stiffening underneath him. His body pinned hers down.

“I'm sorry,” Hotch let his weight up a little bit. “I just…I think I went too far. I’m not trying to make you uncomfortable. I'm so sorry.”

“Mmm,” Emily closed her eyes; felt the waves of passion run through her. There was nothing to be sorry about. She just gripped his tee shirt and pulled him back to her. “Damn you, William Warner. Maybe I should be the one counting. 96, 95, 94…”

***

“How do I look?” Emily came down the stairs and did a twirl at the bottom.

Hotch took a good look at her as he walked from the living room into the foyer.

“You look fine.” He said.

“Just fine, Bill?” She twirled again.

“You look very pretty, Susie Q.” He smiled. “I have little doubt that I’ll have the prettiest girl in the room on my arm.”

He said it with that accent and Emily couldn’t help the flush that spread across her body. They were heading over to Alex and Ellen’s for cocktails and conversation. Emily wore white linen drawstring pants and a powder pink tank top. The top criss-crossed over her breasts and flowed down, almost like a little dress. It gave the viewer, and there would be a few tonight, just a hint of a peek of her torso. She slipped her shoes on, kitten heel flip-flops, white like her pants. Hotch felt comfortable in a pair of khakis, moccasins, and a casual blue button down shirt.

“I don’t think I've ever seen your hair so free of gel.” Emily said, smiling as she rustled his hair.

“This heat would just cause it to cook my brain.” He checked his hair in the mirror. “I didn’t want to risk it.”

“I understand that. Well, we better get over there and meet the neighbors. I don’t want to miss the spinach dip and the hot gossip.”

“Rules first.” Hotch said.

“There are rules?”

“Yes. Neither one of us can have more than three drinks.”

“Gotcha.” Emily gave him the thumbs up.

“The signal to get out is ‘I don't know how much more of this heat I can take’”

“OK.”

“And you're gonna need these.” Hotch handed her a small box. “I forgot about it on the plane; I'm sorry.”

“What is this?”

“It's the old ball and chain.”

Emily opened the box, biting back her gasp. It was an engagement ring and wedding band. Well, it was more like an engagement rock.

“Bill…” She laughed, not even knowing why. “I can't stop calling you that.”

“Good. Here,” Hotch took the two rings in his hand and put the box on the table. “They’re special ordered from Tiffany. Its four carats of diamond, the base is platinum and the bands are 24 karat white gold. This cost somewhere in the ballpark of $40,000 though it’s unseemly to discuss money.” He took her hand, slipping the band on first. Then the engagement ring went on top and the two seemed to lock together.

“Are you serious?” Emily looked at him with wide eyes as he still held her hand. “Holy hell.”

“That’s my story and I'm sticking to it.” He let her go so he could grab his own band out of his pocket and put it on. “I think we’re ready now.”

“This ring is going to give me carpal tunnel syndrome.” Emily said as they walked out of the house.

“I’ll hold your hand up.” Hotch took her hand again, lacing his fingers through hers.

“Have I mentioned what a standup guy you are?”

“Not today.”

“Consider it mentioned.”

000

She met Tessa Brewer, Karen Campbell, Sylvie Rosen, Beth Pratt, and their husbands too. She sipped really good martinis while eating steak kabobs made with organic vegetables. She told everyone that her parents passed away and then did the sign of the cross. Once a lapsed Catholic, always a lapsed Catholic, Emily said. She really did it to ward off bad omens in saying her parents had died. That made her just as superstitious as her alter ego.

She and Hotch successfully and playfully dodged the baby question. Hotch told everyone that his wife was his baby. Emily made it look to some overeager moms that getting pregnant was on her list of things to do by the next summer. She walked away with more home remedies than should be allowed by law.

The murders of Aubrey Andrews, Shannyn Jorgenson, and Nicole Gillette were barely alluded to at the party. Emily sucked up as much as she could of the little information given. She felt like she was at a junior high school dance; men and women separated with no intention of crossing the invisible line in the room.

Occasionally, a husband would come over to ask some asinine question that he didn’t know the answer to because he didn’t pay attention when his wife spoke. Hotch came over to steal a few kisses from his wife every once in a while. Emily didn’t know if that endeared her to their new neighbors or made them hate her.

Ninety minutes in, she was two-thirds of the way through her alcohol limit and ready to chew off her own arm to escape. Coming out of the side sliding glass door from the powder room, she heard hushed voices coming from the pool house. Her instinct told her to investigate even though she had no weapon on her. She couldn’t ignore her gut though, and crept over to the door. Emily pushed it open slightly.

“Ellen?” She said the name in a low tone.

“Who’s there?”

“It’s Susan Warner from across the street.” Emily replied.

“Come in; hurry up and close the door.”

She did, having no idea what she was walking into. Dangerous or dumb, Emily wasn’t sure, but it had to be better than all those brain cells she was losing out there with the Stepford Wives. Emily decided to play on that when she saw the two women, Ellen and a woman she immediately noticed as Senator Kathleen Carville, smoking while relaxing in wrought iron chairs. TV didn’t do Senator Carville justice.

She was 44, young by Senator standards, with chestnut brown hair and striking green eyes. She was about 5’10”, all legs, in white linen pants like Emily’s and a peach v-neck shell. The first thought that went through Emily’s mind was that the woman was sexy…Senators weren't supposed to be sexy.

“I was going crazy out there.” Emily said. “I was starting to feel like Joanna Eberhart.”

“Oh, I like you already.” Kathleen replied smiling. “Join us.”

“Do you have one of those for me?” Emily asked as she sat next to Ellen. “That’s just what the doctor ordered after two martinis and mommy talk.”

“They aren’t cigarettes, Susan.” Ellen said.

“I know; they're cloves and they smell lovely. They’ve been even harder for me to find since the ban…I'm dying for one.”

Ellen eyed her with skepticism for just a moment but Emily didn’t change the expression on her face.

“What?” She asked. “Do you think I'm the clove police? My husband and I moved to Pleasantville to bring down all the illegal clove smokers in a quest for justice?” Kathleen smirked as Emily stood and held out her arms. “Would you like to frisk me?” She watched the Senator’s eyes change when she said it. She knew lasciviousness when she saw it. “I'm a big girl Ellen; I can handle it.”

“Oh, sit down.” Ellen said laughing. She handed Emily a clove. “I just get nervous sometimes. I like my neighbors, I guess, but some of the girls can be judgmental. And Alex hates these things.”

Emily nodded as Kathleen lit her clove. She smiled when the vanilla mint poison filled her lungs.

“Mmm, these are top quality.” She blew out the smoke.

“I know a guy.” Ellen replied. “Nice _Stepford Wives_ reference by the way. I like to think of myself as Charmaine Wimperis.”

“Does that make you Bobbie Markowe?” Emily asked the Senator.

“If you'd like. So you're new to Pleasantville?”

“My husband and I just settled on the house a few days ago.”

“What does your husband do?”

“He brings me home lots of money…the particulars have always been a little hazy. It’s legal, or so I've been told.”

The women laughed again and Emily smiled. She decided to get into this conversation.

“I didn’t know you lived on Forest Lane, Senator.”

“Please call me Kath. I actually live on Beacon Hill but Ellen and I have been friends for years. She was indispensable on my Senate campaign. I wanted her in DC with me but she wouldn’t leave Alex.”

“It’s not that easy, Kath.” Ellen replied. “My life has always been in Arizona. Its home.”

“That must be nice.” Emily said. “I've moved around my whole life; never lived anywhere for too long. I told Bill he had to give me stability. I wish he could’ve done that someplace a little cooler.”

“I have a huge pool at my place.” The Senator said. “You're welcome anytime.”

Ellen looked at her and then back at Emily. She smiled.

“It’s a big pool, Suz. You'll love it.”

“I’ll think about it, thank you. Isn’t the Senate back in session?”

“My husband’s been convalescing; I'm taken care of him for a little while. I commute to DC a few days a week while Michael recuperates.”

“Hmm,” Emily nodded, her long held belief that the legislative branch of the government did next to nothing confirmed. She looked at her watch as she put out her clove. “I better get back out there; Bill might be looking for me.”

“Is he the clingy type?” Ellen asked.

“He's the newlywed type. We’ve been married for a year...we still adore each other.” She stood up. “I was used to being on my own, for better or for worse. It’s nice to have a friend and partner, you know?”

Both women smiled and nodded but Emily saw through it. They decided that they better reappear at the party as well so all three made their way back to the patio. The genders seemed to have gotten together on some level. Hotch wrapped his arms around her, kissing her temple.

“I was looking for you, Susie Q. I don’t know how much more of this heat I can take.”

“I was in the powder room and ran into Ellen and Kath on the way back.” She said. “This is my husband, Bill Warner.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Kathleen shook his hand.

Hotch noticed as he smiled that her handshake was sure and firm.

“You as well, Senator. Ellen, we’re going to leave now but it was a lovely evening.”

“Mmm hmm.” Emily nodded, smiling.

“Well I'm so glad you could come tonight. You're welcome anytime neighbor. And Suz,” She lowered her voice. “You're in the club now…come back any time.”

“Thanks.”

They said goodnight to everyone else and then walked across the street holding hands. The Senator’s eyes followed her the entire way.

“Put your eyes back in your head, Kath.” Ellen whispered.

“That’s going to be hard.”

“She's enamored with her husband.”

“Aren't they all?” Kath asked. “Do you like her?”

“She's nice; I think she’d be a good friend.” Ellen replied.

“See that you make her one.”

***

“I think I'm in.” Emily said from the bathroom.

“What?”

“I think I'm in.” She came out in panties and a tee shirt. “We shared cloves and talked The Stepford Wives.”

“Who's we?” Hotch asked, trying and failing to avert his gaze. Oh to hell with it. She was a beautiful woman and he knew that. While he had no intention of taking advantage of this role he played, he could enjoy it a little bit more. Emily didn’t seem at all shy about her body. Why should he be shy about staring at it?

No, that wasn’t a good philosophy to have. No one should eyeball her, no matter how shapely and beautiful she was. No one included him. It didn’t matter that he couldn’t help himself. It didn’t matter that he did the same when she was fully dressed or mostly naked. No one included him.

He noticed that all the men took notice of her tonight. Some of the women did as well. She was competition, which might not be a good thing while investigating. He hated parading her around but if they were in the shallow doors already then at least it was worth it.

“Ellen, the Senator, and I.” Emily sat Indian style on the bed facing him. She took his hand in hers, lacing their fingers. If someone was watching it would look like they were possibly having a romantic conversation. She hadn't had one of those in too long to recall. “She wants me to call her Kath.”

“That was quick.” He replied. “Those men were the most boring I've ever encountered. The Diamondbacks, the Dow, Fox News…I wanted to chew off my own arm to escape. People have called me boring before. I'm a downright daredevil compared to the men of Pleasantville.”

“Entrée was perhaps a little too quick.” Emily took Hotch’s hand, rubbing his knuckles across her cheek. “Something about Kathleen Carville rubs me the wrong way. And you're not boring, I mean that.”

“You just don’t like politics or politicians.”

Hotch didn’t know how to respond to the rest of her observation. He was surprised his voice remained steady enough to talk at all. Maybe he was getting better at this. Her skin was so warm and there was plenty of it on display. He felt guilty that he couldn’t reciprocate but the ghastly souvenirs George Foyet left behind would surely dampen the mood.

Still, it wasn’t fair. A part of him wanted to apologize but couldn’t find the right words. ‘ _Hey Em, sorry I can't traipse around as naked as you. I owe you one_ ’. Yeah, that didn’t even sound right in his head.

“No, I don’t, though that’s not the only reason. It doesn’t matter,” Emily shook her head. “Ellen seems nice, and bored; I can chat her up.”

“Yes, do that. If she doesn’t really like the neighbors and their lifestyle she probably wants to talk about it. You can play the Bobbie to her Joanna.”

“Actually, I'm Joanna. She prefers to be Charmaine. I didn’t know you knew _The Stepford Wives_.”

“I know a lot of things.” Hotch smiled, dimples poking into his cheeks.

“My Billy boy…a mystery wrapped in an enigma stuffed into a fortune cookie.”

“What shall we do tonight, Mrs. Warner?”

“I have a headache.” Emily replied.

“Are you alright?” His face registered concern.

“No, I don’t really. I've just always wondered what it was like to say that. It’s barely ten o’clock; we can watch a movie.”

“OK.” Hotch grabbed the remote, turning on the plasma TV mounted on the bedroom wall. It was automatically on the channel that showed the cameras in the house. They both watched the scenes of emptiness.

“I really hate that someone could be watching.” Emily said, sighing. “I hate that we have to constantly put on a show for them. Still,” She looked at him and the storm clouds in her eyes cleared. “I'm glad you're here. At least I don’t have to do this alone.”

“I got your back.” Hotch pulled her into his arms and they both rested against the pillows. “I got your front and sides too, baby.” He couldn’t help holding on to her. She was good at her job, would nail this as she did every other assignment, but he knew she wasn’t comfortable. If he could do even a little to help make her feel better he would.

“You seem to be getting used to calling me baby.” Emily quirked an eyebrow as she took the remote from him.

“Sorry, I'm in the moment.”

“The moment is good. We have to stay in the moment for the next few weeks.”

Hotch didn’t need reminding. This assignment was even more demanding as usual while being rather tedious. Someone was killing people in Pleasantville and they needed to find out who it was. He could think of worse ways than a night spent cuddling in bed with Emily Prentiss. Still, he wanted to contact his team. It wasn’t exactly breaking the rules and he was desperate to step out of the bubble for a little while. Not at this exact moment, this was nice, but soon.

***

“Latex.” Reid said aloud.

“No thanks, kid, I'm taken.” Rossi quipped.

Morgan smirked as Reid looked up from a file he was reading at the speed of light with a questioning look on his face.

“There is an abnormal amount of latex found in the bodies but no fluids.”

“We assumed the Unsub used condoms.” Morgan replied.

“Yeah but a condom doesn’t have these kinds of latex levels. There has to be something else.” Reid flipped a few pages.

“Gloves maybe.” Morgan said. “The Unsub is leaving nothing behind. Even cleaning up a crime scene doesn’t clean everything. The murders have to be committed in a Hazmat suit.”

“Or maybe a suit of latex.”

“Reid, someone walking down the street in latex is noticeable.” Rossi replied. “Its 110 in the little bit of shade they have around here. The Unsub would pass out before he could get into the house.”

“He could lie in wait.” Morgan suggested. “That could give him time to change in the house.”

“We got nothing.” Rossi sounded frustrated. “These people cannot obstruct an investigation…we need to infiltrate Pleasantville before this Unsub kills again. To hell with the rules.”

“You'll get no argument out of me.” Morgan said.

“Isn't that what Hotch and Emily are doing?” Reid asked.

“They can't interrogate people or ask too many questions.” Morgan replied. “They're just the new neighbors.”

“I hate the feeling that Emily is a sitting duck.” Rossi said. “For as ineffective as we are here we may as well be back at Quantico shuffling paperwork.”

Morgan’s cell phone rang. He looked at the display and turned it on.

“What's up Baby Girl? I got you on speaker.”

“I found someone that might be able to help with the Syndicate problem.” Garcia said.

“I'm taking you off speaker.” He didn’t want anyone outside to overhear. While Scottsdale PD had been nothing but accommodating so far, his gut told him something was off with them. Derek Morgan always listened to his gut. He hit the button and listened to Garcia talk. He nodded, writing a few things down.

“Alright, I got it. Hey, are Hotch and Prentiss OK?”

“They're fine.” Garcia replied. “Prentiss gets to traipse around half-naked and Hotch gets to enjoy it.”

“Whoa? Are you serious?”

“Yes, my love, I am.”

“I'm putting you back on speaker…say it again.” Morgan hit the button.

“Prentiss gets to traipse around half-naked and Hotch gets to enjoy it.” Garcia said.

“I think we should've been allowed to draw straws for that coveted assignment.” Rossi mused.

“I know right. OK, baby we got what we need. I’ll check back in soon.”

“Are you guys making any leeway there, Derek?”

“Little to none but I think that’s about to change.”

“Be careful.” Penelope said.

“Always, Mama. See ya.” He hung up and showed the paper Rossi and Reid. “We might have some former Syndicate employees to talk to.”

“I need to talk to the M.E.” Reid said, standing up from his chair. “This latex issue has some weight I think.”

“We need to formulate a plan.” Morgan said. “There are plenty of people to talk to but we have to infiltrate Pleasantville to do that. The Unsub has stuck to a script so far but serial killers aren’t known for their predictability.”

“When JJ gets back from talking to the trainers we’ll decide how we’re going to attack.” Rossi said. “They invited us here and we’re going to solve this thing. Whether they want us to or not.”

“Who wouldn’t want to solve a serial murder?” Reid asked.

“I don't know but something’s not pleasant in Pleasantville. We’re gonna find out what and get Hotch and Prentiss the hell out of there.” Morgan said.

***

“Sometimes Pleasantville can be anything but pleasant.” Ellen said.

“How do you mean?”

It was a blazing hot Wednesday afternoon and the women had spent it shopping. Emily had always loved retail therapy but she definitely couldn’t say she had much fun today. They went to the Scottsdale Fashion Square, which was air conditioned to feel like Alaska. She was dressed in a short white sundress with pink flowers and skinny little straps. Too much of her skin was exposed and she wore a metric ton of SPF to protect it.

Her hair was pulled up in a bun so it wouldn’t stick to her neck. She wanted to cut off her bangs but instead pulled them away from her face with a white plastic headband. Plastic plus heat wasn’t the best combination. Emily wore overpriced flip-flops on her feet. She hated shoes that exposed her feet unless completely necessary.

It was necessary in Scottsdale. The amount of walking she did today coupled with the lack of ankle support meant there was a high probability she wouldn’t be getting out of bed tomorrow. Good times. She really, really wanted to go home. Instead she poured balsamic vinaigrette over her salad and let Ellen open up to her.

“Oh c'mon, Joanna,” Ellen joked. “You're not a dumb woman. You don’t have to play that way with me. We’re on the same team.”

“OK, OK, I can admit to having no real interest in moving to a gated community.” Emily replied. “It’s so not my speed.”

“What changed your mind?”

“Nothing. Bill is a bit of a safety freak. He travels sometimes for his work and worries when he’s gone. You know, like I didn’t live alone for years before we got married. So now I’m safe…and trapped.”

“Tell me about it.” Ellen rolled her eyes. “Alex is so afraid the masses want to steal his stuff. I told him that he used to be the masses. Don’t get me wrong, I love having money and privilege but I miss the real world.”

“I heard Tessa and Sylvie whispering something about a woman had been murdered.” Emily said. It was a lie but she had to start somewhere. There had to be some benefit to frying out here like a frijol. “Did that happen in Pleasantville?”

“Aubrey Andrews was her name. I personally think her husband did it. Rumors were swirling that he had a thing with the au pair and the tennis instructor. Not to mention Aubrey had a price on her head. Do you play tennis? Alex and I are members at the country club and I’ll take you some time if you want to.”

“I don’t play well but that sounds like fun.” Emily replied, wondering how she could be thinking about tennis and murder in the same moment. “What do you mean Aubrey had a price on her head?”

“She had a three million dollar life insurance policy.” Ellen replied eating her turkey club without bacon. “Everyone knew Todd had fallen on hard times; the business was failing.” She shrugged. “I guess he thought Aubrey was expendable.”

“That’s awful.” Emily said, and meant it.

“It’s also not surprising. I watch crime shows…the husband is always a suspect.”

“I’ll sleep with one open around Bill. He always gets on me about my spending.”

They both laughed as they ate their lunch. Emily wondered why Ellen hadn't brought up the other two victims and the similarities between the murders. Maybe she had no idea. It seemed improbable that she didn’t know Shannyn Jorgenson and Nicole Gillette were dead in such a small community but people were hiding things.

The police weren't being let in so the neighbors might only be privy to what they saw on the news. Today was not the day to press. It seemed like Ellen wanted to let her in but that might stop if she asked too many questions. The game had to be played slow and steady if Emily wanted to win.

“Well, I'm glad I met a friend here.” Emily said smiling. “I was sure between the new city and the tight knit community I’d be talking to myself for the next few years.”

“Pleasantville can be that way too. I'm sure the only reason most of them talk to me is because of my friendship with Kath.”

“You two are close?”

“I guess so. She’s gone a lot now but we used to be.”

“I know how politics can um…change things.” Emily replied.

“I'm moving on.” Ellen held up her glass. “To new friends and breaking the monotony.”

“Hear, hear.” Emily held up her glass as well.

***

“I think that Shannyn was having an affair. Oh God, I hate to speak ill of the dead but she was my best friend in the world. If saying this can help you find the sicko who murdered her, I won't lose any sleep over exposing it.”

Her name was Jessica Munroe. She’d been best friends with Shannyn Jorgenson since their sorority days at Arizona State University. Now sitting in a downtown Scottsdale coffeehouse with Rossi and JJ, it was clear how much pain she felt. JJ knew what it was like to lose a sister. The two women may not have been blood but that didn’t make the bond any less unbreakable.

The BAU had been in Scottsdale a week and were getting nowhere. The plan to infiltrate Pleasantville by any means necessary was temporarily on hold. JJ had finally gotten someone who knew a victim intimately to open up. She didn’t live in that enclave, wasn’t part of that world, and she was ready to tell what she knew.

“Tell us what kind of woman Shannyn was.” JJ said.

“Was? Oh my God, thinking about her in the past tense is really difficult. She was a whirlwind. Shannyn loved life and everything it had to offer. She traveled, she lived, she loved…the world was a better place with her in it. She didn’t belong in that prison. All of us, her friends, were skeptical when she married Dan a few years back.

“No,” Jessica shook her head and pushed a strawberry blonde flyaway behind her ear. “Skeptical is the wrong word. We were just surprised. He was 47 and she’d just turned 31. It wasn’t really the age difference that floored us; lots of pretty young women around here angle to catch older big fish. It’s just that he was so…boring. He wooed her, boy did he, and as soon as he caught her he whisked her away to Pleasantville.”

“What made you suspicious of Pleasantville?” Rossi asked.

“Maybe I've just seen one too many horror movies but a gated community seems a little over the top. I asked her once why she agreed to move there and she said Dan worried about her safety. He traveled a lot for work and wanted her to be secure when he was gone for days or a week at a time. I'm sorry, but we live in Scottsdale, not Detroit or something. And look, she was murdered in that precious gated community.”

“Tell us about the affair.” JJ said. “Did Shannyn hint at it or are you just speculating?”

“Its just speculation,” Jessica replied. “The last year of her life, we didn’t see each other much. I have to live with the consequences of that. But it wasn’t as if I didn’t want to…Shannyn seemed to have new friends.”

“Who?” Dave asked.

“I don’t remember a lot of names. Um, there was a Tessa, Barbara, Ellen, Laurie or Lisa or something. I'm not good with names. Pleasantville wasn’t my kind of place but I went there a few times, to be fair. It was clear they didn’t want me there as much as I didn’t want to be there. The place was split into 3 factions…the men, the Stepford Wives, and the others.”

JJ and Dave glanced at each other. It wasn’t difficult to know which group Emily fell into.

“Who did Shannyn hang out with?” JJ asked.

“Well, she's never been a man or a Stepford Wife. She had to do something to survive. But there were sharks in that sparkling clean water. I tried to talk to her about it but everything was so secretive there. She was getting in deep but I don’t know into what. Then she disappeared and then she was dead.”

“Do you have any names or thoughts when it comes to the person she might be having an affair with?”

“No.” Jessica shook her head. “I think, though, that it was one of those women. I've known Shannyn for 15 years and we all experimented; we had a lot of fun. But women were never her thing.”

“What changed?” Dave asked.

Jessica shrugged. That place was poisonous and whenever she tried to poke at the monster, it bit back. She fought for her best friend but the pull of Pleasantville was too strong. She still had nightmares about it.

“Where does Dan Jorgenson fall into this?” JJ asked.

“Nowhere, really. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t think Dan is a bad guy; he's just clueless. He’s devastated by what happened to Shannyn…who wouldn’t be? The problem is that I can't tell if it’s because she’s gone or if he was wrong about that damn place. I don’t think anyone has been so wrong before.”

***

“Susie Q!” Hotch bellowed as he moved up the stairs and down the hall of their sprawling house.

He’d played some golf that morning and then spent a few hours at his “office” in downtown Scottsdale. It was some of the most boring time of his life. He sent emails to Morgan and was updated on what little information they had. He talked to Jessie, which was against the rules, but he needed to check on Jack. The rest of the time was spent twiddling his thumbs, pacing, and thinking.

The things they learned in Pleasantville didn’t put the BAU much closer to finding out who murdered three women. Hotch was starting to feel as if this was going nowhere. Meanwhile, someone was out there watching and waiting. Keeping Emily safe was priority number one but he also had to remember that he wasn’t Aaron Hotchner.

He was Bill Warner…boring Bill Warner with his smooth Southern lilt. He’d really tied his hands with that one, hadn't he? Still, he had to do something to keep the two men far apart in his brain. They only had one real thing in common.

“Suz!” He walked into the bedroom. There were shopping bags on the bed. He peeked into a few, not touching the one from Victoria’s Secret. He didn’t want to think Emily would use anything in there to play The Newlywed Game.

“I'm in the bathroom.”

Hotch wasn’t that comfortable walking in on her in there but he did, and he smiled. Emily was in the huge tub surrounded by bubbles. He was able to relax and lean against the wall.

“You know what I hate the most about Arizona?” She asked.

“What?”

“It’s fuckin hot!”

Hotch laughed, shaking his head.

“I see you did a little shopping today.” He said.

“It was for the good of the case.”

“I'm sure that’s almost true. How was the afternoon with Ellen?”

“It was quite interesting. Are you going to make me dinner?”

When Emily’s wet leg peeked out of the water, Hotch swallowed hard.

“I worked all day, woman. I should be the one coming home to a hot meal.”

“Ooh,” She flicked bubbles at him. “You might want to stop while you're ahead, Mr. Warner.”

“I'm not afraid of you.” He replied playfully.

“You'd better be. I'm hungry and I'm not afraid to use it against you. Go downstairs and see if you can make magic with that overpriced gas grill.”

“I think I have a better idea.”

“OK, dazzle me.”

“I'm taking you out on a date, Mrs. Warner. Put on your best dress and your sexy shoes because I have a platinum card.”

“What's gotten into you?” Emily asked.

“Maybe we’ll talk about it later. We’re here and I want to enjoy tonight. I say we break out of this cage and take Scottsdale by storm. Are you with me?”

“I'm always with you.”

“Good,” Hotch nodded. “I’ll leave you to it.” He went to leave the room but her voice stopped him.

“You didn’t tell me about your day.” Emily said.

He couldn’t help but smile at her. Her hands were together, resting on top of the tub. Her chin rested on her hands. Damn she was so pretty. No, she was beautiful. She was beautiful and out of his league.

Not just because of her physical allure but a laundry list of other things Hotch didn’t want to think about right now. Emily was close, for real or not, and that was what he chose to think about in this moment. The rest would be waiting for him when the bubble burst in a few minutes. He hoped the fall didn’t kill him. He’d been falling for years; hadn't hit the ground yet.

“We’ll talk over dinner. We’ll talk about anything but my day. Shake a leg, Susie Q; we’ve got places to go.”

Emily smiled, leaning back in the bathtub. It was important to remember why she was here. When she did, the smile faded from her face. Three women had been murdered and surely there was a fourth murder being planned. They were there to stop that from happening.

She was the cheese being used to draw out a big rat. The job had the potential to be very dangerous and had already shown itself to be boring. Emily had to be “Susie Q” Warner; had to live and breathe her. At the same time she couldn’t forget anything that SSA Prentiss was trained to do.

It was hard to keep the scales balanced but lives depended on it, including hers. Tonight though, just tonight, she wanted to have a quiet night out with her man. Reality, fantasy, or somewhere in between, Emily was hardly sure anymore. What she was sure of was that she would worry about that tomorrow.

***

“This weather is atrocious.” Morgan muttered.

He was leaning against the police station wall with a handheld fan blowing on his face. The high today would be 97 and he knew he’d feel every single degree. It would probably be better to go inside under the air conditioning but he was sick of that as well. Artificial air or heat…there was no middle ground in Arizona.

He wanted to go home; Morgan found himself dreaming of home. He missed his dog, his house, and the breezes at night. Instead he only heard the hum of the AC. Derek didn’t think he’d ever get that hum out of his head. It was there instead of information that would help them find this Unsub.

“Are you alright, Morgan?” JJ asked, handing him a bottle of water.

“I'm frying and I'm sick to death of this city. We’re getting nowhere; it’s really bugging me.”

“We have more than we did yesterday. Jessica Munroe was really helpful.”

“I don’t think going down the affair road is a good idea, JJ. If it was one woman, I might buy it, but three…this is a serial.”

“I know, and I think it's someone who hates women.”

“No doubt about that.” Morgan drank half the water in one take.

“Jessica told us about a group of women in Pleasantville that Shannyn was close to. She called them The Others.”

“The Others? What does that mean?”

“Can we please go inside; I'm wilting?”

“Yeah.” He nodded as they headed back into the building.

Inside the room where the BAU was working the case, JJ closed the door and they both sat down. They were alone for a while. Rossi and Reid were out interviewing the people the victims were found to have in common. They all worked in the service sector. It was important to leave no stone unturned before storming the fortress.

“Jessica said there were three kinds of people who lived in Pleasantville. There were the men, the Stepford Wives, and the others. The others were the women who weren't soccer moms and had once been more than housewives. They're bold, beautiful, and they stand out.”

“They're the perfect targets for a serial killer.”

“Exactly. Shannyn wasn’t going to conform to whatever you conform to in Pleasantville. I bet if we dig deeper into Nicole and Aubrey’s lives we’d find out that they ran in the same circle.”

“So you think the Unsub hates these particular women?” Morgan asked.

“It’s a good place to start. We know the murders are motivated by rage. What if the Unsub is trying to…?”

“Silence the voice of dissention.” Morgan finished her sentence. “Oh my God, please tell me we are not looking at a very twisted version of an Ira Levin novel.”

“It’s the best lead we have so far.” JJ replied.

“But we would have to get into the gates to find the others. Dammit! This is the most ridiculous case ever. In three weeks, maybe sooner, someone is gonna die and the FBI is sitting here with their thumbs up their asses.” He sighed. “We need to get in. We need to get in now.”

“I don’t think the locals are going to help us so we have to tread lightly. They invited us here and they can take it back.”

“I know, but we don’t have time to play games anymore. It’s our job to find a killer and save these women. Call Rossi; we’ll come up with a plan.”

***

“I was honestly petrified; I really couldn’t believe it.” Ellen said, sipping her iced tea. “It was like being smack in the middle of _Dragnet_ or something. I mean, why me?”

“The FBI really came to your house?” Emily asked. “What did they want?”

“They asked me a bunch of questions about Shannyn. They said that my name came up in their investigation; they heard we were friends.”

“Who’s Shannyn?”

“She was a friend of Aubrey’s.” Ellen replied, looking at Kath.

“But if Aubrey’s husband killed her what does that have to do with the FBI?”

“Who told you that Todd killed Aubrey, Susan?” Kath asked.

Emily looked at her. Yes, the Senator was still relaxing at home while the cogs in the government’s wheels slowly turned in DC. As far as she knew, not one trip had been made to the nation’s capital since she and Hotch moved in.

“I told her about the insurance and the affairs.” Ellen said. “C’mon Kath, we all know his business was tanking. I think he just made it look like that serial killer did it. It’s the perfect plan actually…he’ll probably get away with it.”

“Serial killer?” Emily raised her eyebrow as she took a clove from the box on the table. The three women were out on the Warner’s patio shielding themselves from the early evening sun. Things were about to get interesting. “I've barely been here for two weeks…I'm starting to feel like I'm in the middle of _Dragnet_. Should I be concerned?”

“The papers are calling him the Sunday Morning Slasher.” Kath said. “Though I struggle to figure out why anyone would believe what they read in that rag. They think something is amiss in our community because the three victims lived here. I think the serial killer spin is just to get Scottsdale on CNN. Those three women could’ve been involved in anything. We’re a tight-knit community but not privy to all of our neighbor’s business.”

“I haven’t seen any police around.” Emily said. “No one’s asked me any questions.”

“And they shouldn’t.” Kath replied. “The police aren’t allowed to harass us without a damn good reason. Living behind a gate does afford us some comforts.”

“Not if a killer lives here too.” Emily shuddered. “What did they ask you, Ellen?”

“They just wanted to know about the victims. They wanted to know if I was friends with any of them and who else we spent time with. I told them I wasn’t speaking to them without my lawyer present…I watch _Law and Order_. They told me I wasn’t a suspect. I said I would be happy to continue this conversation in the presence of my husband and attorney. Then I showed them the door.”

“Good.” Kath nodded. “What nerve they have; as if who you are friends with is any of their business. What, do they think you're a serial killer? I'm going down to the police station to complain tomorrow. Their behavior is unacceptable.”

“Don’t do that, Kath.” Ellen shook her head. “It was embarrassing and kind of scary but they're doing their job. If someone hurt me I would want an investigation.”

“Then why didn’t you answer their questions?” Emily asked.

“Well I do have rights, Suz. No one is allowed to come into my house and interrogate me. I…” Ellen groaned as her phone vibrated. She looked at it, rolling her eyes. “Alex is back from Tempe. I have to go you guys; I promised him some time together. Kath…”

“I’ll call you later, El.” The Senator gave a little wave.

Ellen frowned a bit but managed a smile for Emily.

“Sunday at noon, it'll be me, you, and some tennis.”

“I’ll be there.”

Ellen walked off the patio and headed across the lawn to her house. Emily smiled at Kath. She didn’t like her very much but maybe she would be willing to talk. This wouldn’t be the first time Emily would use her feminine charm and grace to get information. Maybe the Senator was in the mood to talk. She was definitely in the mood to listen.

“I'm sorry Ellen had to run off; I was just about to pull out the fruit. Bill found this great organic fruit market and I love nibbling on it. He’s really into making sure we only put good things in our bodies, you know. Are you hungry, Kath?”

“Ravenous.” She licked her lips.

“Great, I think you're gonna love it.”

Emily went into the kitchen, grabbing the fruit platter from the refrigerator. She took a paring knife from the drawer and started slicing the golden delicious apples and the strawberries. She was humming Fleetwood Mac’s _Dreams_ ; didn’t realize someone was on her until it was too late. Kath ran her finger down Emily’s spine. She was wearing a lavender shell top with half of her back out. When she felt Kath’s hand on her skin, Emily shuddered.

“Don’t be alarmed Suz.” She whispered.

“What are you doing?” Emily gripped the paring knife. She didn’t want to do anything drastic. Part of going undercover sometimes meant letting things play out.

“I don’t want to scare you, just relax. I tried to stop thinking about you but you're so damn beautiful.” She brushed Emily’s hair aside; Kath’s nose brushed the nape of her neck. “Do you know how good you smell? Does Bill like the way your skin smells?”

“Yes he does, because he’s my husband. I'm a happily married woman, Kath. I think you need to back up. We don’t want a misunderstanding to ruin what might be a good friendship.”

Kath turned her around so swiftly that Emily had no time to react. Then the junior Senator from Arizona thrust her tongue into Emily Prentiss’ mouth. She protested but Kath’s grip on her was tight. She held Emily’s wrists so that it was difficult to move.

“No,” She finally pulled out of the kiss. Emily probably could’ve freed her wrists as well but she needed to play this scene out. She didn’t want to but she needed to. If it went too far there would be no problem committing simple assault against Kathleen Carville. “Stop it Kath, stop it! Let me go!”

Kath put some space between them but still held Emily’s wrists. Some were fighters, some reluctant, and some were all too willing…all three suited her tastes. In the end they all acquiesced. She wasn’t sure if it was her or her power that was irresistible.

Kath didn’t really care as long as she got what she wanted. She wanted beautiful women, she wanted Susan Warner badly. It was unusual to show her hand so early but she was smitten. It had been a long while since Kath found a woman with such beauty and magnetic force.

“I would never hurt you Susan. I'll be so gentle; I promise you.”

“You're not being gentle now…let go of my wrists. Let me go!”

She finally did and Emily rubbed them. She had to stomp down the part of her that wanted to whale on this woman. It was hard to control her breathing and heartbeat.

“I think you need to leave. No, you definitely need to leave. Now.”

“I don’t want you to be mad at me.” Kath replied. She sounded as if she was trying to sound sincere. “I just…I can't help being attracted to you. Do you know how beautiful you are?”

“Get out of my house.”

There was an ocean of sharks between them though they were just a few feet apart. Emily didn’t plan to dip her foot in. She thought Kath might risk it and just jump in to come over and get her. The paring knife was still within reach; she could use it if she had to.

“Hey there.” Hotch walked in through the back sliding glass door. He had a bag from Salad Palace and one from The Cream Puff.

“Hi Bill. I'm sorry I can't stay but I have someplace I really must be.” Kath said, turning and walking out the back door. She grabbed her stuff from the table and made her way out of the backyard.

“Was it something I said?” he put his bags on the counter, taking an apple slice and eating it. Emily said nothing so Hotch came and stood in front of her. His jovial face immediately turned to one of concern. “What happened?”

The sound of his voice, Hotch’s and not Bill Warner’s, brought Emily out of her head.

“Senator Carville just tried to…”

“What did she do?” he put his hands on Emily’s shoulders but she moved away.

“Don’t! I just want to go home. This is past ridiculous.”

She turned and walked out of the room. Hotch didn’t try to follow her, knowing Emily well enough to know that space was the best thing. She didn’t want to talk to him and that was fine for the moment. This house held few secrets; it could do the talking for her. He took the cell phone from his hip and called Garcia. Hotch felt as if they were going nowhere while at the same time falling deeper into a dark hole. He needed to hold onto Emily so they wouldn’t lose each other.

000

“I come bearing gifts.”

Hotch came into the bedroom about 90 minutes later. Emily was on the bed, flipping through the channels on the muted television. She tried to smile but didn’t quite make it. He hated to think this but she was beautiful even in her melancholy.

“What did you bring me?” She asked.

“We have dinner and dessert.”

Hotch sat on the bed with the tray of food. He made Emily a chicken salad sandwich, no cheese, with some ridged potato chips. There was a bottle of cranberry apple juice and a sterling silver platter with a cover on it.

“What's this?” Emily put her hand on the platter handle but Hotch gently moved it away.

“No fair, you have to have dinner before dessert. I'm sure you’re hungry.”

The heat affected Emily’s appetite. When she did eat, it was mostly out of necessity and not hunger. But the chicken salad on toasted wheat bread smelled delicious. Cut into quarters, Emily picked one up and ate slowly.

“I'm sorry that I lost it.” She said. “There are just so many things I need to keep straight in my head. We have no idea what's going on here and the more things I learn…there are more questions than answers.”

“What's going on in your head? You can talk to me.”

“It’s too much right now. I couldn’t articulate it even if I tried.” She shook her head. “Thank you for the food.”

“I knew you needed your space but I wanted to do something.” He said.

“There are always bonus points for feeding me, Mr. Warner.”

Even though she didn’t want to be there, it was getting easier for Emily to fall into her Susan Warner persona. She was loved and adored; who wouldn’t want to be her?

“I know my Susie Q well,” Hotch replied. “She loves to eat.”

“Oh shut up.”

They both laughed a bit and Hotch relaxed on the bed. He was glad Emily was going to be alright. He would feel even better when they could get out of Pleasantville and return to real life. He sympathized for the people who felt trapped here. I didn’t take long for the walls to close in.

“Penelope showed me the tape.”

“What tape?” Emily asked. She was on the second quarter of her sandwich.

“I'm talking about the tape from a few hours ago…you and Senator Carville.”

“She caught me from behind. I can't say attacked; it was more subtle than that. I let it happen.”

“What do you mean?” Hotch asked, eating a potato chip from her plate.

“I had to play it out. I didn't feel like I was in danger even though it was quite uncomfortable.”

“What was she thinking?”

“Lust outweighs most things, particularly when you're used to having your way. Kathleen Carville doesn’t hear no very often.”

It felt good to talk about it. If she approached it like an FBI Agent, Emily would feel less shaky. She was doing her job…if she kept repeating that maybe she would be alright.

“Lust? The tape didn’t have audio; I don’t know what she said to you.”

“She thought I was beautiful, wanted me, and told me that she would be gentle.”

“Oh my God; I'm so sorry.”

“For what? I'm a woman in my late 30s; I've been sexually accosted before. Some take no for an answer better than others.”

“But by a woman?” Hotch asked, trying not to let what she told him make his blood boil.

“Lust and abuse of power are not exclusively a male personality trait, my love.” She smiled when she said it. Hell, if he could call her baby she could throw in a term of endearment of her own. Couldn’t she? “I think I should be allowed to eat dessert now.”

“You’ve only eaten half of your sandwich.”

“Don’t make me pout.” Emily replied. “You won't be able to control yourself when you see the pout, I'm telling you. I'm trying to save you the embarrassment of surrendering to my every whim.”

“I think I might be able to handle it.” Hotch said.

“C'mon, please.” She made her eyes big and round.

Grinning, Hotch pulled the top from the platter. Emily gasped when she saw the mini cupcakes. He told her they were double chocolate with butter cream icing and that just made her happier.

“These are my favorite.” She said.

“I know that.”

“How did you know that?”

“You're my wife. I've spent years putting every piece of you that I'm privileged to possess together. Now I have an almost complete idea and it fascinates me.”

That revelation left Emily breathless and speechless. She popped a cupcake in her mouth to fill the empty space. She practically squealed when she realized they were also cream filled. Hotch really did know her, at least where dessert was concerned. And dessert was very important. Lots of people knew Emily Prentiss had a sweet tooth though; it wasn’t much of a secret. Still, to bring home her favorite dessert…he deserved a little credit.

“Aha, I can still surprise you.” He said.

“Mmm hmm,” She nodded happily.

Hotch let her indulge in two more cupcakes before getting back to the conversation.

“Do you think Senator Carville might be our Unsub?”

“What? No.”

“You said she was a power junkie and obviously she’s not used to being told no.”

“But you know that’s just one ingredient of the profile. Not to mention that the victims were sexually assaulted. I think we’re looking at a man who hates powerful women. It's an oldie but goodie.”

“We don’t have the whole profile.” Hotch replied.

“I know.” Emily fed him a cupcake, smiling when he held her fingers for a little too long. “The crime scene photos showed rage, hatred. The Senator will probably just move on to the next one now that she's been rejected. We’ll find out how she took it when she sees me again. She’ll either act as if nothing happened or she will verbally reject me.”

“I’ll be happy if I never saw her again. I didn’t like what I saw on that tape.”

Emily didn’t like it either; she had to live through it. Still, it was the closest she’d come to seeing the ugly veneer behind the pretty sheen of Pleasantville. Not that being hit on was such an awful thing in itself, but there was definitely a sense of power and entitlement behind it. The house of cards in that community would fall eventually…it was only a matter of time. The same could be said for the Unsub. Another murder was coming.

“Thanks for dinner, and dessert.”

She leaned across the tray and kissed Hotch’s lips. She was getting used to that. He caressed her face, deepening the kiss. He wanted her, wanted her in his arms; wanted her underneath him. Never in his life had Hotch been so grateful for a food tray.

If it wasn’t between them surely he wouldn’t have been able to control himself. Emily had been through enough today. She didn’t need unwanted attention from her Unit Chief. Of course she was kissing him back. She had kissed him first.

Maybe it wasn’t so unwanted after all. Still, if he made a move on her, Hotch was no better than Senator Carville. He would be breaking the rules of their job, their assignment, and their friendship. He would file away for future use that she had kissed him first.

“I should…” Hotch pulled away. “Let me take this tray downstairs.”

He cleared his throat, standing up and grabbing the tray. It took a moment to get his bearings. He hoped Emily didn’t notice he was on his way to a raging erection. As hard as Hotch tried, he couldn’t make it go away. It had been taunting him since that first night she wore those red hot pants and those pigtails. How was it possible for her to feel comfortable with him when he felt seconds away from losing all decorum?

“Hurry back.” She replied.

He didn’t know what that meant but he knew the things going through his mind. Hotch cleared his throat again, putting on a smile.

“OK.” He said.

“I mean it Bill, hurry back. If you do, you can pick the movie tonight.”

“I hear you Susie Q; I’ll be right back.”

He had no idea what would happen when he got back. Hotch was a little excited, terrified, and curious. The combination of all those things made his head hurt. Other parts of him felt just fine.

***

“I think you were holding out on me, Suz.” Ellen said, laughing as they shook hands over the net.

“What do you mean?”

“It came down to a tiebreaker. You told me that you were bad at tennis.”

“Did I?”

“Mmm hmm,” she laughed again.

“Well I'm not Martina Navratilova but I used to play a little. You probably would’ve killed me if you didn’t have the injury. You're really good.”

Ellen nodded as they went over to the bench and started packing their tennis equipment. She had light gauze over her middle and ring finger on her hand. When Emily asked her that morning what happened she told her about a battle with some seafood.

“I was making shrimp Alfredo but the jumbo shrimp Alex bought weren't completely de-veined. I think the knife I used was too big so I cut myself. That’s the biggest sign I can think of that domestic goddess isn’t anything I need to add to my resume.”

“Tell me about it.” Emily replied laughing.

“So what's the plan for this afternoon?” Ellen asked, throwing her tennis bag over her shoulder.

They headed back inside the country club. It was hot outside but that was nothing new. Inside it was cool; Emily could breathe again. She’d grown up in the country club atmosphere.

It didn't seem to matter what continent you were on, what country, the clubs were all the same. She hated it then…she still hated it. The women went inside the café and ordered a light snack. Ellen wanted tropical fruit salad while Emily got a small spinach lettuce salad with salmon.

“Ellen, is there really a serial killer in Pleasantville?” She asked. It was time to try and get some answers. “I don’t even want to ask these awful questions but it's been on my mind since Thursday. I kept Bill up worrying. I don’t even know how to tell him what I'm worried about.”

“I don’t like thinking about it. It’s a scary thought; we all think we live somewhere safe. I honestly don’t know, Suz. Did you and Kath talk about it some more after I left?”

“No,” Emily shook her head. “She left a little while after you did; Bill came home.”

“Oh.”

“Have you talked to her?”

“She left for DC on Friday morning.” Ellen replied. “I think she's coming back Tuesday. Michael isn’t recovering as well as she would like.”

“What happened to him?”

“He broke his leg falling from a horse playing polo. He had to have surgery; it was a bad break. That was nearly four months ago but he can't seem to fully recover.”

Emily nodded. She would stop while she was ahead. It was better to stay subtle, seem curious. The last thing she needed was the door closing in her face. Ellen and Kath were close…if the Senator turned against Emily it could all be over. She didn’t want to be happy about that even if she wanted to go home.

At least with Kathleen out of town for a few days there was a little leeway. After their midday snack, Emily and Ellen headed back to Pleasantville. She was driving the Benz, Fleetwood Mac on the local classic rock station. They sang along to _Gypsy_ until the red and blue lights interrupted their concert.

“Oh my God, was I speeding?” Emily asked, slowing down as she moved over to the side of the road.

“I don’t think so but I was too busy singing.” Ellen replied. “I hate being pulled over. I can usually work it so I'm let off with a warning though.”

“That would be nice. Could you grab my wallet from my tennis bag?”

Ellen did and Emily took her license out. Then she grabbed the registration from the glove compartment. She was glad Hotch didn’t leave a gun in there. That would’ve been tough to explain. For a while they just sat there, not sure where the police were.

Neither woman wanted to look back but finally Emily glanced in the rearview mirror. An unmarked car was parked behind them. Great, she thought, it was probably a damn Narc. With her luck Ellen might turn out to be a drug trafficker. What better place for Lady Heroine to hang out than a swanky Arizona gated community? Finally, an officer approached the window.

“Excuse me, are you Susan Warner?” he asked.

Emily immediately recognized Dave Rossi’s voice. Ellen recognized his face and gasped.

“Oh my God, that man is in the FBI. At least he said he was.”

“Are you Susan Warner?” he asked again.

“Yes sir. Do you want my license?”

“They're not real cops, Suz…I don’t know what they are.”

“I'm SSA David Rossi.” he flashed his ID. “Ma'am, you need to go home and we’ll follow you there.”

“What's going on?” Emily asked.

“We’ll discuss that at a safe location. We need to get you home, ma'am.”

Emily nodded, rolling up her window as Rossi walked away. Ellen just looked at her.

“What the hell is going on, Suz?”

“I don’t know but I need to get home and make sure that Bill is alright. Hold on.”

She drove quickly, the unmarked FBI car right on her heels. 20 minutes later they were pulling up to the Pleasantville security gate. She told Mike the guard to let the car behind her through. Then Emily drove the half-mile to Forest Lane and pulled into her driveway. She and Ellen got out of the car at the same time as Morgan and Rossi.

“Agent Morgan will escort you home, Mrs. Ortiz.” He said.

“I only live across the street…I’ll be fine.”

“Please just come with me, ma'am.”

She was skeptical but nodded. Morgan followed her home as Rossi went with Prentiss to the Warner’s front door.

“Bill!” She walked into the house. “Bill, where are you?”

“I'm here, I…” He stopped walking when he saw Rossi but recovered quickly. “What's happening?”

“I don't know.” Emily walked over, hugging him. She couldn’t help but tremble when he stroked her hair. They had to keep up their end of the bargain; someone was possibly watching.

“We need to talk,” Rossi said. “The Unsub has struck again.”

Hotch nodded, motioning toward the den. He and Emily walked in with their arms around each other. Rossi followed them.

000

“Senator Kathleen Carville is dead.”

“Oh my God, what?”

Emily couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She’d seen her the day before yesterday; very much alive when she accosted her.

“Are you saying that the Unsub killed her?” Hotch asked.

He and Emily sat close together on the couch. He held both her hands in his and they rested on his lap. Dave sat across from them in a chair.

“The signs point to the Unsub but there was more rage involved.” Dave replied. “There was no sexual assault but the rest of the M.O. remained intact. She was strangled twice and stabbed almost thirty times. It was overkill; it was gruesome.”

“What about Michael?” Emily asked. “He’s at home convalescing from a broken leg.”

“He found the body in the bedroom when he came home from physical therapy. Right now he’s inconsolable. We left him there with a police officer and the M.E….he might have to be sedated.”

“Ellen told me that the Senator was in DC until Tuesday.”

“She was murdered this morning. We don’t have an estimate on the time yet but we can guess it was between ten and noon. The M.E. will tell us more after the autopsy. Do you know anyone who had problems with her?”

“No,” Emily shook her head. “She's the sun that women here revolve around. Lots of people really adored her. She adored the adoration.”

“She made a pass at Susan.” Hotch said, not batting an eyelash.

“Hey!”

“What?” He looked at her. “Were you going to keep that to yourself and obstruct an investigation?”

“Well I didn’t kill her.” Emily sighed, looking at Rossi who seemed to be enjoying the marital exchange. She wanted to wipe the smirk off his face. “She made a pass at me a few days ago but Bill came in and she left right after. I told her in no uncertain terms that I wasn’t interested.”

“How did she take it?” Rossi asked.

“I don't know; she left right after. It was a tense and uncomfortable situation.”

“I need to know how the morning played out.” Dave said. “This place will be crawling with police in a few minutes. They’ve held back as long as possible. Not only was a Senator murdered but the serial killer has struck for the fourth time. We thought we didn’t have control before…I don’t even want to imagine what's coming. What did you do this morning?”

“Well, um…” Hotch looked at Emily and held her hands tighter.

The morning flashed through Emily’s mind. The Warners, played by Aaron Hotchner and Emily Prentiss, spent a lot of it making out. They kissed, touched, moaned; it was so delicious. She didn’t even know how it started. A good morning kiss, yes, he kissed her good morning and he just couldn’t stop. For a while she was sure that Bill was out the door and she was with Aaron.

When he caressed her face and grinned with those dimples…she was in Heaven. He nearly brought her to climax a few times during their play but Emily didn’t think he knew that. She knew how much she excited him and it was unfair she couldn’t share how much he excited her. Still, he was a smart man; he had to know.

“We slept in until about nine thirty.” She said. “Then Bill made breakfast while I showered. We ate together, read the paper, talked; just boring married people stuff. Then I went over to Ellen’s at 11:30 so we could go to the country club.”

“Was anything out of the ordinary?”

“No.” Hotch shook his head. “But the Senator lives up on the hill. We wouldn’t have seen or heard anything from here.”

“Your sleeping in until nine thirty isn’t out of the ordinary?” Rossi asked smirking.

“The pace of this assignment gives me time for some of the best sleep I've had in years.” The Unit Chief replied.

“I just bet it does.”

“Is anyone else thirsty?” Emily asked, standing up.

“I actually need to go.” Rossi stood as well. “Morgan and I need to get back to the Carvilles and study that scene. They can't keep us out now. No one wanted a fourth victim but we’re gonna finally solve this thing. The Unsub broke the rules thus far laid out…the game just changed.”

“Find this guy, Rossi.” When Hotch stood he slipped his arm around Emily. He also ignored the look on his old friend’s face. “I really want to get out of here.”

“You're not enjoying yourself?”

“Get out.” Emily replied.

Rossi played it up for the cameras, shaking their hands and letting Prentiss walk him to the door. She closed the door and went straight back to the kitchen to pour herself a glass of iced tea. Hotch came in a few minutes later. She was dressed in tennis whites, her hair pulled back in a tight ponytail. He had to beat back the dirty thoughts with more strength than he thought he had. He needed to focus on the case…another woman was dead.

“I never saw this coming.” He said, sitting down at the counter.

“We’re profilers, not psychics Hotch.” She handed him a glass. “I'm sure no one did.”

“How do you get close enough to a U.S. Senator to murder her?”

“It's someone she knows and trusts, just like the rest of the victims. This wouldn’t have happened if she’d been in DC doing her job.”

“That’s true but…I wish Rossi could’ve stayed and given us more information.”

“Honestly, I don’t think they have it. As sad as it is, a fresh crime scene usually gives us the answers we need when we’re nowhere.”

“I hope this is over soon.” Hotch reached across the counter for her hand. “I hope that for the residents here and for us as well. Its hard not being out there doing my job. I know it is for you too.”

“Yeah.” Emily nodded. “Do you feel this strange pull, a part of you almost wanting to enjoy this down time while another part of you knowing that you can't?”

“The lines between fantasy and reality are blurred. They're more blurred than I thought possible when we started. I'm afraid of really getting burned.”

“We’ll look out for each other.” Emily squeezed his hand. “You told me that you had my back. Well, I have yours too…always.”

“Promise?” Hotch asked, not really sure why he was going there.

“Cross my heart.”

He nodded, lifting her hand to his lips and kissing it. He wished he knew when they were being watched and when they weren't. It was hard being Bill Warner all the time. He couldn’t let himself get used to the closeness and not be ready if the Unsub struck.

Hotch’s gut told him that Emily was in danger. This assignment was about more than playing house. What happened this morning proved that more than ever. No one was safe and he wasn’t going to let anything happen to her.

***

“I think Senator Carville was the true target of the Sunday Morning Slasher.” Monica Sheehan said in a matter of fact tone as she sipped her appletini.

“Do you care to elaborate?” JJ asked, finding it hard to hold back her disdain.

She and Morgan met with the reporter at a bar/lounge called Aqua in downtown Scottsdale. Water was about the only beverage that wasn’t flowing in the place. There were at least 20 beers on tap and the bartenders seemed to make every drink invented. There was also a classic actor drink menu that Morgan found fascinating.

When this case was over the whole team could come back here. They could shake off the stench of Pleasantville by bickering about which drink was most like them. For now he’d give Monica Sheehan the sexy FBI guy look since that’s what she seemed to want. Give and take was part of the job. He hoped he didn’t have to give too much; he didn’t like her already.

“Well it’s kinda like the DC Sniper.” Monica chattered on. “He killed all those people so he could kill his ex-wife undetected. The police were going to think a crazed serial killer did it. I think the Slasher was gunning for the Senator all along. Well he was gunning for her circle…she was the big cheese.”

“So you think the murders are over?” Morgan asked.

“I don’t know, isn’t that why the FBI is here? I mean after Senator Carville no other victim will get as much press. This is national news now baby. When you guys finally figure it out, I want my exclusive with Agent Morgan. Do you like Thai food?”

“Miss Sheehan, this is a case where four women were brutally murdered. It’s not an opportunity for you to get to a bigger market or to brag to your girlfriends that you fucked a real live FBI Agent.”

“JJ…” Morgan looked at her. Jennifer Jareau didn’t get angry very often. She was used to dealing with the press and in serial situations the unsavory side of that profession came out. Obviously Monica Sheehan had been pressing the wrong buttons for quite some time.

“Look, Agent Jareau, I sympathize truly. But you have no idea what was going on up there. They won't even let you guys through the gates. Don’t think I don’t know that I'm a few steps ahead of the mighty FBI. I'm not saying that anyone deserved to die but there were probably plenty of men angry with her.”

“Why don’t you tell us why you think that.” Morgan replied.

“You can read all about it in Sunday’s paper.”

“Are you serious?” JJ asked.

“Mmm hmm, I'm getting the front page. Sex, Senators, and slashing…the public will eat it up. Remember I said when I got something I was going to run with it. Well, I got something.”

“If I find out any of this something was obtained through nefarious means I will lock you up.” JJ said.

“I can't reveal my sources, you know that.”

“We’re done here, Agent Morgan.” JJ stood. “And it will be a cold day in hell before anyone representing the Federal Bureau of Investigation answers questions from a hack reporter like you.”

“Gee, you’re lucky I have a thick skin, Agent Jareau. You have to in this business. I sleep well at night; I'm just doing my job. The people have a right to know.”

JJ rolled her eyes as she and Morgan made their way to the exit. In the parking lot, she rested her head on the tinted windows of the SUV. There was no relief, it was burning hot. So much so that it made her jump.

“Dammit, that was unprofessional. I know and I'm sorry Morgan but that woman rubs me the wrong way.”

“I should’ve stopped you in there but why mess with a strong woman on a roll. Anyway, she couldn’t hear you over the sound of her own awesome in her ears.”

JJ managed a little smile.

“Women are dead and all she cares about is her career. Emily is still up there and she could be in danger. Monica told me she heard some rumors and innuendo of kinky sex going on in Pleasantville. Then Jessica Munroe tells Rossi and I that she thinks Shannyn was having an affair with a woman.

“What if it was the Senator? I have no idea what to expect in the paper on Sunday. Everything is fair game with that woman. Truth doesn’t seem to matter these days. Enough half-truths can create a whole article.”

“That either means that she is fully prepared to turn the Tribune into a rag or she has just enough to send the secretive gates of Pleasantville crashing down.”

“We shouldn’t wait for her to trump us…we have information too.” JJ said. “It’s been 48 hours; let’s light a fire under the M.E. and get a real profile on this creep.”

“Yes ma'am.”

Morgan opened JJ’s door and then went around to the driver’s side. They were going to solve this case; he could feel it. The Unsub was running on borrowed time.

***

“Hey!” Hotch jumped. “What are you doing? Don’t do that!”

“If you don’t know what I'm doing how can you tell me not to.” Emily countered.

“Susan…”

“I'm trying to brush my teeth.”

“OK, that requires you to rinse the toothbrush, once. Then you brush and rinse it again. I guess you would rinse out your mouth too.”

“You guess? I'm supposed to go to bed with dry toothpaste around my mouth? Why are you being so anal about it?”

“Because I'm in the shower!” Hotch exclaimed.

“Oh,” Emily stifled her laughter. “There is that.”

She turned on the water again, running her toothbrush underneath.

“Susie!”

“Oops, I'm sorry.”

“You're not sorry…you're laughing about it. I can hear your secretive snicker. Stop it.”

“I’m only laughing a little.”

She took a few minutes to brush her teeth, looking at herself in the mirror. Her skin was starting to tan and while that was better than burning, she hated it. They'd been in Scottsdale for two and a half weeks and she looked as if she’d been tanning for over a month. Emily wanted to go home where autumn was in full bloom.

Autumn in DC was her favorite season. She couldn’t get enough of the still warm days and the chilly nights. The weather was perfect. Giggling again, she turned the water on for a few seconds.

“Stop it!”

“I didn’t do anything.”

“Yes you did. Do you have any idea what it feels like to suddenly be plunged into cold water? Let me show you.”

Hotch popped open the glass door, looped his arm around her waist, and lifted her bare feet off the rug.

“Bill!” She cried out, kicking at him. Emily tried to get away but the man had a vice grip when he wanted to.

Hotch turned off the hot water and held her under the ice cold shower while she wriggled and squealed.

“Oh my God, it’s freezing! Stop it!”

He just laughed as Emily used one of her kicking feet to push in the knob and turn off the showerhead. Hotch loosened his grip on her and she scuttled away. Breathing heavy, Emily’s back was against the wall as Hotch turned off the water. Her hand rested on her wet tee shirt, trying to control her frantically beating heart. It took a while for Emily to even realize Hotch was naked.

It was the first time she’d seen him without a shirt since Foyet stabbed him. Actually, it was the first time Emily had seen him without a shirt at all. The scars were healed but horrendous. They managed to take little away from his toned chest and torso. He was a running man and it showed in his physique. Almost without her consent, her eyes wandered downward. Water was supposed to shrink a man wasn’t it? Holy hell…

Emily opened her mouth to say something, she wasn’t sure what, but it didn’t matter. Before there was time to pull together a thought, Hotch was on her. He was on her like a lion on a doe. His mouth was hot and hard; his tongue insistent between her lips. Somehow her tee shirt came off though their mouths never seemed to come apart.

Emily whimpered as Hotch pressed her body against the cold, wet tiles. Beads of water were on her breasts; his tongue slid across the warm skin before focusing on her nipples. She tasted so good, just like he always imagined. Hotch couldn’t help feasting on them, especially the left one with the silver hoop through it. They grew harder in his mouth and that excited him. So did the shivers that went up Emily’s spine when he nibbled on them.

The way she moaned, the way she held onto him…it was nearly overwhelming. As he found her lips again, Emily’s arms moved around his shoulders. Then her hands went up the nape of his neck and through his wet hair. Hotch’s hand moved up too, gently squeezing her breast. Eager thumbs brushed across her nipples, his tongue brushed the roof of her mouth.

“Oh God,” Emily moaned, managing to break away from his fiery kisses for a moment.

“I want you.” Hotch growled in her ear, taking a lobe hostage between hungry lips. His hands were rough as they yanked her wet sleep shorts down. He was desperate to touch her and Emily moved her thighs apart to let him. “Oh God, I want you so damn much.”

She shuddered at his touch, gripping his shoulders. He kissed her again, passionately, as his hand increased the friction between her legs. Emily moaned into his mouth and Hotch quickened his pace.

“Slow down…” She dragged her mouth away from his. “Slow down and make me come like I know you can. Please don’t rush…I want to experience every second of this. I want us to experience it.”

Hotch could hardly believe the words when they came out of her mouth. He opened his eyes and got lost in the ecstasy he saw. She wanted him as much as he wanted her. Emily wanted it done right, which was what she deserved. Lifting her into his arms, Hotch opened the shower door and stepped out into the bathroom.

The cold air hit him hard but he could give a damn. Neither did Emily. She just ran her tongue over his lips, wanting more kisses. He had no problem giving them to her. He wanted to give her everything he had.

“Make love to me, Aaron.” She whispered in his ear as they fell back onto the mattress. Her hands were gentle as she stroked his erection. Emily couldn’t help but smile when she realized he didn’t need any help with that. That didn’t mean she didn’t want to get to know every inch of him intimately. This was a good way to start…he had plenty of inches to work with.

There was no way he could stop himself from taking her. Emily’s heat, her scent, and the ways she moaned…he was enraptured. Her touch brought a sound from Hotch’s diaphragm that he didn’t even know he could make. It was a low growl, almost animal in nature as he got lost in her. He opened her thighs wide, sliding in slow to allow Emily to adjust to the invasion. When she gasped, Hotch stopped but she drew him into soft kisses.

“Don’t stop; make love to me. Oh God, ohhh my God.”

Hotch caressed her face, sliding deeper and deeper until he could go no further. Then he nearly pulled out before thrusting again.

“Oh God, mmm, yeah…” Emily gripped his hips, whimpering.

It didn’t take long for him to find his rhythm. Her body complimented Hotch’s long, slow strokes and they danced together like a sensual ballet. He buried his face in the crook of Emily’s neck, murmuring dirty things that his mind couldn’t believe it was actually thinking. His mouth couldn’t believe he was saying them either. Emily’s moaning let him know that she liked it though.

“Ohhh yeah, I do, I do love the way you fuck me.” She replied, stroking his strong back. The way the muscles strained with every thrust made her quiver. “I do want you to make me come.”

“Hold on, don’t come without me.” Hotch said in her ear. “Just hold on, baby.”

Emily took hold of his face, made him look at her.

“Say that again…say it to my face.”

It was hard to look into her eyes. Hotch wanted to tell her every thought that ever moved through his head about her, in chronological order. He wanted to open his heart like a pocket and slip her inside.

“I love you.” He said instead. They were the only words that came when he opened his mouth. “I've loved you for so long. I'm never gonna stop.”

Emily had no time to respond. The tension that had been building inside of her since Hotch pulled her into the shower began to spark like a firecracker. Hotch felt it too, speeding up his thrusts to keep them on the same road. He ground into her, hips pressing against hers the whole time.

Emily wanted to scream his name but was speechless. Her eyes started rolling back in her head before fluttering shut. He wanted her to open them, wanted to see them when he made her come, but he would get over it. There were more important matters to attend to.

“Oh God, ohhh baby, yes, yes…good Lord.”

“Aaron!”

She didn’t care; all she wanted was cry out for him as the fireworks exploded behind her eyelids. Emily fell and knew that Hotch was with her. He quivered, shook, and filled her with intensity that neither could recall feeling in quite a long time.

“My God,” He could barely utter the words as he breathlessly collapsed on her.

The weight of him was amazing. She hummed when his torso rubbed on hers. Oh my God, he even knew how to make the climax last. Was there anything the man couldn’t do?

“Don’t move.” Emily held onto his hips. “I need you inside of me.”

“For how long?” Hotch whispered, trailing soft kisses across her throat and collarbone.

“Just for a while…you can't go yet. It feels so good.”

“I'm not going anywhere.” It felt so good to him as well. He held her face in his hands and kissed her. Hotch was smitten, had fallen hard; he was a goner. So much so that he hadn't even remembered to turn out the lights.

If someone was watching them tonight, they definitely got a show. The couple hadn't even managed to slip under the covers. Still, deep down Hotch recognized that Emily never replied to his declaration of love. Was it possible to feel butterflies in your stomach while also experiencing a profound ache?

***

“I hate to say this but there could be some weight behind what Sheehan said.” Morgan said.

JJ groaned as she handed him the Miller High Life from her mini-fridge. They had to get out of that police station so the BAU smuggled files back to the Scottsdale Comfort Inn where they were staying. Now in the room JJ and Reid shared they had everything they needed to get an accurate profile of who this Unsub was. It was time to solve this and the four of them only had each other at this point.

“What do you mean?” Rossi asked, eating some of the chips and salsa on the table.

“Let’s go on the assumption that these murders are the annihilation of The Others.” Morgan said. “The killer definitely got the big fish with the murder of Senator Carville. But it’s important to find out how all these chains link together and how they link to the Unsub.”

“The Senator wasn’t raped like the others.” Reid said. “I'm thinking there had to be a time restraint of some sort.”

“No,” Rossi shook his head. “That doesn’t fit. She was stabbed nearly double the amount of times as the first three victims…the Unsub had time. It has to be something else.”

“Intimidation.” JJ said.

“What?” all three men looked at her.

“The classic power assurance rapist-murderer has two types of potential victims. He either seeks out those weaker than him who immediately bend to his will or powerful women that he can break. We know what kind our Unsub went after. But maybe Kathleen Carville was too much for him.

“While the overkill surely suggests rage, the lack of sexual violation might suggest fear. We don’t know what the Senator said during the fight for her life. She could’ve humiliated him, which led to him unleashing his fury with the knife only. It could also have something to do with why there wasn’t a meticulous clean up.”

“The Unsub was flustered.” Morgan added.

“Exactly. In a way it was a crime of opportunity. While the Senator may have been on his hit list, something made him strike two weeks ahead of schedule. Find the stressor, find the Unsub.”

“Pleasantville seems to be a community full of stressors.” Rossi mumbled. “And closed mouths as well.”

“The evidence will speak.” Reid replied. “There was no clean up. The forensics guys found four separate DNA samples at the crime scene. One was immediately found to be the Senator’s.”

“One most likely will be her husband’s.” Morgan said. “That leaves two possibilities. What about the other women who comprised that crowd…what about Emily? We can't just work on the assumption that the Unsub is done. The frenzy of the crime scene and the breaking of the 30 day cooling off period show a devolving psyche. This could get very ugly very quickly.”

“OK, so Nicole Gillette, Shannyn Jorgenson, and Aubrey Andrews were all part of a subgroup within the community.” Reid said. “The Senator was clearly the leader of that group.”

“But other women were part of it as well.” Rossi grabbed his notebook from his inside jacket pocket. “I wrote down Tessa Brewer, Rebecca Middleton, Laura Harrison, and Ellen Ortiz. I guess we can add Emily to that list now…the others quickly adopted her.”

“She’s the only brunette.” JJ said.

“What?” all three men spoke in unison again.

“Damn guys, I've been in the BAU for some time now. No doubt something’s gonna rub off.”

“I didn’t mean it that way.” Morgan replied.

“Neither did I.” Rossi was quick to add. “It’s well known that you, Emily, and Penelope outrank even Wonder Boy in your genius. We’d been lost in the reeds without you.”

“For sure.” Reid nodded. “What's this about hair color?”

“Emily is the only brunette.” JJ grabbed pictures of the three victims and lined them up on the ugly blanket. “The reason Hotch and Prentiss are undercover is because of Emily’s uncanny resemblance to the victims. Of all the names on the list Rossi just ticked off she is the only one who fits the type.”

“That doesn’t necessarily put her in danger.” Morgan said. “She’s new, perhaps didn’t have time to catch the Unsub’s eye. These murders are well-coordinated, thought out, and planned. I'm with you on type though. From hair color to physicality, these women are very much alike. The Senator,” Morgan put her picture down next to the others. “She's close enough.”

“It doesn’t matter…” Rossi shook his head. “She's the leader.”

“But all of these women, maybe more, are part of her circle.” Reid said. “What sets the Unsub off about these three specifically?”

“Maybe it’s not the Unsub; maybe it’s the Senator.” JJ said. “And please don’t give me the group ‘what’ again.”

“What are you thinking, JJ?” Morgan asked.

“It didn’t even occur to me until the Senator was murdered. Jessica Munroe thought Shannyn was having an affair with a woman. What if it was Kathleen Carville? We know from Emily that the Senator wasn’t shy about making a sexual advance toward her. What if the Unsub killed these women because they were the Senator’s lovers, or he suspected they were? It’s the ultimate betrayal.

“These women weren’t conforming to the unwritten rules of the community. They stood out, spoke out, and sought intellectual and emotional support from each other. What if some of the relationships turned sexual? All three women were having some kind of hardship in their marriage at the time of their murders.”

“Dan Jorgenson traveled extensively for his job.” Reid said. “Tim Andrews was about to be taken under by the recession and Cole Gillette hadn't been close to his wife since the birth of their twins almost 2 years before.”

“That left them vulnerable.” Rossi said.

“I don’t think vulnerability has anything to do with it.” JJ replied. “The Senator may have been playing a less deadly version of the same game the Unsub is.”

“Breaking down powerful women.” Rossi said. “His violation of her possible lovers was like getting the Senator where it hurt. When no one else was left, he struck out at the source.”

“Could it be one of the victim’s husbands?” Reid asked. “It sounds like a complicated web of deception, hate, and revenge. It could be a twist on mission-based killing.”

“It doesn’t seem probable that one husband would be invested in all three women.” Morgan said. “Unless that husband is Michael Carville.” He handed JJ the pretzels that Reid handed to him.

“But he’s injured.” Rossi replied.

“The few people we managed to talk to all said the same thing. It was strange that he hadn't healed yet from that broken leg. We already established that he ties them up because he’s physically incapable of overpowering them or believes himself to be. What if he’s faking the magnitude of the injury to turn suspicion away from himself?

“He wouldn’t need to clean the crime scene because we would expect his DNA to be in his house. It might even mingle with his wife’s blood because he found the body. His hatred for her could’ve been building for years and years. Then one day he just snapped.”

“The stressor being what?” Rossi asked.

“Maybe his wife going from watching their neighbors to acting out her fantasies with them.” JJ said. “She was doing it right under his nose; no regard for his feelings. We know now she was using their Syndicate connection to spy on Pleasantville. If she was doing that maybe he was too. He could’ve seen her liaisons live and in living color.”

“He’d spent years surrendering to his wife’s will and she still wanted more.” Reid said. “He felt emasculated because she found women more sexually satisfying.”

“I'm calling Garcia.” Morgan grabbed his cell phone. “I want everything we can dig up on Michael Carville. I think we just found our first viable suspect.”

“I need food.” JJ said. “I think its time to refuel. There's a great burger joint about two blocks away.”

“I'm in.” Rossi stood and stretched. “I have to make a quick phone call…I’ll meet you guys in the lobby in ten minutes.”

“Baby girl?” Morgan said into the phone as Rossi left the room.

“Is that a question or a statement my hunk of burning love? Who else would answer my phone?”

“I need your fast fingers.”

“Ooh, I thought you'd never ask. You know once you go dyed auburn you never go back, right? What am I doing?”

“You're rocking my world, mama.” Morgan replied laughing. “While you're doing that though, I need everything you can get on Michael Carville. Every parking ticket, vice, bad habit, credit card statement…the whole shebang. If he likes porn I want to know. If he smoked in college, I want to know. Tap into the juvenile court database and get me whatever you find there as well. We need it all.”

“The Senator’s husband? Ooh, the plot thickens.”

“It sure does Penelope. I hope we’re finally at least on the right track with this.”

***

“You can't see me at all?” Emily asked, adding mascara to her eyelashes. Heat and makeup didn’t mix so she wore as little as possible.

“I haven’t seen you since last night at approximately 11:42pm, Peaches. Are you alright?”

“I'm fine. I'm waiting for you know who to get back so we can go to this brunch at Ben and Sally Castle’s. Everyone is still reeling over Senator Carville’s death; they just want to talk and be close. They released the body yesterday so Michael is planning funeral services.”

“There’s a possibility he could be the Unsub.” Garcia said.

“We’ll know soon I hope. If not Penelope, we have to get the hell out of here. There’s a reason I don’t do undercover assignments anymore. It’s too easy to lose yourself in the game of Russian roulette you're constantly playing.”

“You're going to be alright. We won't let you lose yourself; that’s a promise.”

“You never make promises you don’t intend to keep.” Emily replied. “I really just…”

“Susie Q! Baby!”

“I gotta go, he’s back and using the bat signal. Text me when you get a visual.”

“Will do. Later chica.”

“Bye.” Emily hung up the cell phone, leaving it on the vanity counter. She came skipping out of the bathroom. Happy or not, she would pretend to be today. A little faking it till you made it never hurt. “Hey you, I…Ellen?”

“Hello Susan.”

“What's going on? What are you doing here? Where’s Bill?”

Ellen dropped the mini tape recorder on the floor and Emily watched it fall. Her friend was just standing there, dressed as if she were going to play tennis. She also carried her small pink tennis bag, Emily had seen it before.

“I always wondered if you wore pretty underwear. I should've known…you really are the whole package. You're as beautiful as she boasted. Did she see this much of you? Maybe she saw even more.”

Emily didn’t say anything but she did feel naked. All she wore was a pair of sky blue bikini panties and a matching satin and lace bra.

“You have to know how they all look at you.” Ellen rambled on. “They fantasize about doing the nastiest things to you and Bill just,” She smirked. “Bill parades you around like a damn trophy. You claim to hate it but I don’t think you do. I think you secretly love it. Yes, you must love the adoration and lust you inspire. Don’t you know that everyone harbors a secret hatred for the prettiest girl in the room?”

“Ani DiFranco.” Emily didn’t think it was smart to pick that up from the whole statement but she couldn’t help it. She still loved Ani. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Her eyes quickly flashed over to the alarm clock.

It was 10:45; it was Sunday morning. Oh my God, this could not be happening.

“Don’t play dumb with me, Susan.” Ellen pulled a long knife from a sheath on the inside of her tennis skirt. “You're not a dumb woman; you're smarter than all of us. If they all want to look at you so much I think I need to give them something to look at. I’ll make you my masterpiece. No one will ever forget what they see.”

“Don’t come any closer.” Emily backed up. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

Ellen laughed though it was completely mirthless. It seemed as if she wanted to say something but decided not to. Emily was sure she had no time to get her Glock out of the nightstand drawer. She knew from the crime scene photos that the Unsub was quite handy with a knife. It would have to be hand to hand if she couldn’t talk the woman down, which she knew she couldn’t.

“Ellen…”

She lunged at Emily and she held up her hands to fend and fight her off. Emily felt the blade slice into her arm but ignored the pain. Fighting for her life was all that mattered right now. She tried to knock the knife out of her hand but Ellen struck at the same time, slashing her again.

Emily’s elbow finally connected with Ellen’s chin, sending her stumbling back. She made a dash across the room and onto the bed. She had to reach the nightstand drawer. Ellen jumped on her back before she could get it open.

“Don’t fight me Susan, though I have to admit its kind of a turn on when you fight me. You fought Kath too; it only made her want you more. You're what she wanted the most. Did you give her what she wanted? Did you like it…did she fuck you and you liked it?”

“Get the hell off me!” Emily’s screams were muffled, fighting as Susan tried to push her face deeper into the mattress.

Something hard hit her in the head, once, again, and she saw stars. The whole world was fuzzy when Ellen flipped her over on her back. Emily tried to blink away the pain, shake off the dizziness, but she couldn’t. She was bleeding but had no idea where the blood was coming from. Ellen grabbed her wrists hard, slapping Emily with the back of her hand when Emily tried to fight her off.

She twisted them before grabbing the duct tape and wrapping them tight. Emily refused to cry out and show fear. No one wanted to die this way, no one deserved it, but Emily didn’t plan to beg either. That was especially as it wouldn’t work anyway. A twisted grin was on Ellen’s face as her hands clasped around Emily’s neck. As the darkness engulfed her Emily thought of her family. She thought of her team, of Hotch…he would never get over finding her like this.

000

She came out of the blackness slowly. Emily fought her instinct to gasp for air; it would surely lead to being choked again. Her body felt as if she’d been beaten, heavy and sore. Her lungs felt as if she were drowning. She felt her legs being pushed open, something hard pushing inside of her.

No! No! Oh my God, no! It thrust deep and Emily’s mind screamed. She didn’t move, she couldn’t move. Her mind could barely process that this, this violation, was really happening to her. She was frozen with fear and shame.

It thrust into of her again, and again, how could a supposed friend do this to her? Was this how Shannyn or Nicole felt when faced with true betrayal of someone they thought they could trust? Emily came back to life, thrashing as best she could. The sudden movement caught Ellen off guard and she tried to restrain her. Emily kept fighting, finally kicking hard enough to knock Ellen off the bed. With her captor on the floor, Emily rolled to the other side and off the bed. She groaned in agony when she hit the carpet shoulder first.

Pain shot through her entire body and there was no way to fight it off. Passing out would have been a lovely but deadly thing to do. She was still disoriented; her throat raw and swollen from being choked. It was hard to focus but Emily knew she had to get out of that room and out of the house. She half-slithered, her wrists still bound, half-crawled toward the open bedroom door. She had no idea if Ellen was on her tail or not. Getting out was the only thing on her mind.

Halfway down the long hallway, Ellen grabbed her leg. She yanked hard and Emily kicked wildly at her. A whisper that should've been a scream came out of her throat. Ellen was strong and Emily had no real use of her hands. She lunged and the knife went into the top of Emily’s shoulder. She grimaced from the pain but didn’t stop fighting.

How was it possible to get a knife from someone when you had no hands? Emily could barely breathe; she didn’t know how much longer she could fend her off. There was blood all over her…it was her blood. Ellen wouldn’t stop until she was dead. She stabbed her again in the forearm as they struggled.

Gathering up whatever she had left, Emily head butted her hard. She saw stars again as she did her best to slither away. The stairs were so close and she had to get to them. She would rather break her neck tumbling to the bottom than to die like this. No one should ever have to make that choice.

Emily grabbed hold of the banister. If she could get to her feet she could run, maybe. She felt dizzy and nauseous. Her vision was blurry; everything in front of her looked as if it was filtered through a rainy windshield.

But Ellen wasn’t going down easily. The woman was running on adrenaline and rage. When she grabbed Emily’s hair she thought it would come out from the root. Emily cried out, or tried to, as she was yanked to her feet. Her legs were weak underneath her and she felt pain between her thighs. What had Ellen done to her?

“Damn, you're a fighter. This could’ve been fun Susan but now I have to do it the quick and very painful way.”

Somewhere in the distance, as she battled to keep from being dragged back into that bedroom, she heard Hotch’s voice. Was he there or had the insanity finally taken over?

“Susie Q!” he bellowed. “Baby, I'm home!”

That was the bat signal. Whenever he bellowed ‘Susie Q’ that meant the game was afoot. Emily did her best to take a deep breath. She wasn’t sure what would come out of her mouth when she opened it but she did it anyway. She didn’t have a choice. This was her only chance.

“Bill!” It was bloodcurdling scream. Thank you God, I owe you one.

“Susan!” Hotch grabbed his ankle piece and rushed up the stairs. He immediately stumbled but got his bearings again. When he got to the top he was face to face with his worst nightmare. “Oh dear God.”

Ellen Ortiz had Emily’s hair wound in her fist. She was bleeding from various wounds and there were bruises around her neck. She wore a bloodstained bra but was naked otherwise. The knife Ellen held had blood on it and she had it at Emily’s neck.

Hotch quelled his first instinct to vomit. He gripped his gun harder, steadying his stance. His head was swimming and he couldn’t shake it off. He had to shake it off or someone was going to die.

“Ellen, what are you doing?” It was an insane question but he didn’t know what else to say. His heart was beating wildly. Emily was hurt and all he wanted was to get to her. “Susan is your friend.”

This couldn’t be happening. He’d missed all the signs; let Emily cuddle up with this monster. He encouraged the friendship and thought Ellen would give them information they needed. He wanted to tear his eyes away from her real agenda. He knew he couldn’t and shouldn’t see Emily like this.

He knew he would’ve seen worse if he came home just a few minutes later. As tears of anger stung his eyes, Hotch breathed deeply through his nose to hold them back. _Dammit_ , he chastised himself, _get it together. You have to get it together or she will kill Emily. Emily will die if you don’t snap out of it_.

“She's no friend of mine. She’s been seducing everyone whole time…right under my nose. Were you clueless, Bill; did you think you were her one and only? I was clueless too but then I saw through her. I saw through all of them. They were all just whores, and she is too.”

“You need to put down the knife and step away from her. She's bleeding, she's hurt, and we need to get her help. Susan is your friend and you're hurting her.”

“She’s not my friend!” Ellen screeched. “You think I don’t know what kind of evil she is with her seductive body and sharp tongue. I've seen her, luring you, fucking you. I've seen it Bill. All the private moments…they weren't as private as you thought. It was quite a good show.”

“Get the hell away from her!” Hotch was losing his patience. He fought to get it back.

“What do you think, Susie Q?” Ellen softly kissed her temple. “Maybe Bill wants to watch. The way he flaunts you around he would probably want to watch. I already fucked her Bill, did you know? You're not the only one who can fuck her the way she likes. She didn’t deserve the softness of Kathleen. She can handle much rougher than that.”

Emily groaned, struggling against the restraint. She threw her body back, as hard as she could, and they both crashed into the doorframe. Ellen’s head banged against the frame and she cried out in pain. She reached for her bleeding head with both hands, letting go of Emily to do so. Emily crumbled onto the floor and the moment Ellen moved a millimeter, Hotch shot her twice in the chest.

She fell forward, landing on top of Emily. Unable to do anything else, Emily sobbed in agony. Hotch put his gun back in the holster and rushed to her. He pushed Ellen off and pulled Emily into his arms.

“Are you alright? Emily, are you alright?”

Still unable to speak, Emily held up her wrists. She needed to be unbound before she exploded. Hotch was careful but quick in getting the duct tape off. He helped her to her feet, mostly carrying her into the bedroom. There was blood all over her. He saw at least four stab wounds and he wanted to check how deep they were.

She was shaking all over so Hotch grabbed a blanket from the closet to wrap around her. That’s when he saw the knife wound in her shoulder. He grimaced, thinking about his wounds and the attack that caused them. After Emily was covered, he called Morgan on his cell phone.

“Hotch…”

“Ellen Ortiz is the Unsub!” he exclaimed. “Get over here now; she just tried to kill Emily. We need an ambulance…Emily’s hurt. We need help, Morgan, Emily’s badly hurt.”

“What! We’re on our way. Hold on; we’re coming.”

Hotch hung up and focused on Emily. She was shaken, staring ahead with glassy, unfocused eyes. He placed a tentative hand on her shoulder, leading her over to the bed to sit, but she didn’t respond to his touch. All around them lay Ellen Ortiz’s weapons, what she used to rape and murder four of her friends and neighbors. She planned to assign Emily Prentiss the same fate. Now she lay dead a few feet away in the hall.

Her blood soaked the crème colored rug. Emily’s blood stained the bed sheets. Hotch wanted to cover his eyes but it was too late. Nothing would stop him from seeing it. They made love there just the night before and now it was the scene of a nightmare. Neither one of them were waking up.

“Don’t worry Emily, help is on the way. We’re gonna get you out of here, I promise. Please just hold on.”

***

Almost two hours later, after statements, and more statements, speaking with Alex Ortiz, trying not to kill Alex Ortiz with his bare hands, and finally giving Rossi his gun, Hotch made it to the hospital. It was in the elevator that he finally noticed Emily’s blood on his shirt. He leaned against the cool wall as his mind flashed back to New York and that terrorist explosion. Kate’s blood had been all over his shirt. She hadn't survived. Emily had to be OK…he didn’t know what he would do if she wasn’t OK.

He saw JJ coming out of a room as he was getting off the elevator. Hotch quickly walked over to her. She’d been the one who got Emily together enough to go into the ambulance. He wouldn’t let another soul into the bedroom and the house was crawling with agents. Hotch made Morgan clear it out before sending in the EMTs. He knew Emily wouldn’t want anyone to see her like that, especially her teammates. JJ was different, she was a woman, a trusted friend, and educated in how to handle that kind of situation.

“How is she?” He asked.

“She’s heavily sedated.” JJ replied, pushing her blonde hair off her forehead. “The EMT tried to examine her in the ambulance and she went a little crazy on him. She broke his nose, Hotch. They had to put her under.”

“Oh God.”

“She has multiple head contusions, various bruises and slashes, and four deep stab wounds. The doctor says the other bumps and bruises, including the marks around her neck, would heal eventually. He’s concerned about the head blows since they gave her a sedative. He wasn’t sure if she had a concussion or not.”

Hotch knew what falling asleep with a concussion meant. Sometimes people didn’t wake up. He struggled to breathe; he had to pull himself together. Losing it in front of JJ was not an option.

“JJ, was she…?”

“There were signs of sexual trauma but the rape kit was inconclusive.”

“Of course it was…a man didn’t do this. I don't want you talking about this with anyone, are we understood?”

“Of course.” JJ didn’t bother to feel offense. She knew Hotch was steps from losing it; couldn’t believe he was still holding it together.

“She fought for her life.” Hotch said. “She fought with everything she had and she nearly lost. I shouldn’t have left her alone.”

“How were you supposed to know, Hotch? The profile didn’t account for it being a woman.”

“It should have!” He tried to check his tone but couldn’t. “We talked about the possibility but dismissed it. Dammit, dammit, I let her be dangled like bait and she was raped. She was nearly murdered by someone she was friendly with. Dammit!” He smacked his fist into the wall and a couple of nurses jumped.

“None of this is your fault, Hotch. Ellen Ortiz was obsessed and unstable.”

JJ knew it was useless to tell him that. He was their Unit Chief, he always took the blame. He could’ve told Strauss no to the undercover operation. They all knew it had the potential to be very dangerous. Their jobs were dangerous everyday. Emily knew that when she joined the BAU. This was more than Unit Chief anguish, JJ knew that too. She knew it as well as knowing that whatever she said couldn’t help him right now.

With no more words, Hotch walked past JJ and into the hospital room. Emily was silent and unmoving in the bed. There was the constant and ubiquitous beep of the heart monitor. There were also machines hooked up to check her brain waves and pulse. She had two IVs but Hotch had no idea what they were. Her contusions were obvious but her stab wounds had been cleaned and dressed.

Emily looked peaceful, not as if she’d been through hell a few hours before. As Hotch pulled up a chair and sat at her bedside, he couldn’t help but wonder what was happening behind her closed eyelids. He remembered how he relived the Foyet attack repeatedly. There was a time when it was all he could think about. He wouldn’t wish that nightmare on anyone.

Gently taking Emily’s bruised hand in his, he started to pray. She didn’t deserve this…none of it was her fault. All she’d ever been was a top-notch FBI Agent. He would take it all on. Hotch would take on her trauma.

“You're going to be alright.” He whispered, holding her hand to his lips. She was still wearing the engagement ring and wedding band he gave her. “Just rest, Em; you're going to be alright.”

The rest of the team came to the hospital to check in but didn’t disturb Hotch’s bedside vigil. JJ told them what the doctors had told her, minus the sexual assault. It didn’t matter that Hotch told her not to. She knew Emily would never want anyone to know. She regretted even telling Hotch.

The team didn’t seem to know what to do next. There was a nervous buzz in the dayroom as some cable sitcom played on low volume. Rossi took the phone call from Strauss telling them that it was time to come home. Agents Hotchner and Prentiss would remain in Scottsdale until she recovered enough to return. She knew they were all worried but they needed to return to Quantico and wrap this case up.

He agreed. He didn’t like it but he agreed. He told her they would leave Arizona first thing in the morning. Then he went to talk to Hotch.

“We’re leaving.” He spoke in a low tone. If they gave Prentiss the good stuff he could’ve come in playing the Bossanova and not woken her up.

“When?” Hotch asked. He placed Emily’s hand back on the bed and walked over to the door where Rossi was standing.

“First thing in the morning. We’ve been summoned back to Quantico.”

“I'm not leaving her Dave.”

“No one’s asking you to.” He put his hand on Hotch’s shoulder. “Strauss said you were staying until Prentiss recovered.”

“What if…?”

“Don’t,” Dave shook his head. “She's going to survive this. It might take some time but you know how strong she is. They put her under so she can heal.”

“She’s been through hell, Dave, and she didn’t even want to do this. She kept saying it was a bad idea but I didn't listen.”

“You always listen to Emily; you listen to all of us.”

Dave sighed. He couldn’t do this right now. He couldn’t do it and it wasn’t going to help Hotch anyway. Sometimes you just had to fall, lie there, and then decide to get up. You had to do that on your own. It sounded harsh but Dave knew it was for the best.

“I'm going back to the hotel. Where will you sleep tonight?”

“I’ll be in that chair until Emily wakes up.” Hotch replied.

Rossi nodded, squeezing his friend’s shoulder and walking away. Hotch went back to his chair. He just sat there, knowing he wouldn’t move until she came back to him.

000

Hotch jumped when he felt the warm hand on his shoulder. His blurry eyes looked at the older man. For a moment he wasn’t sure what was happening. It all fell back to earth and landed on his shoulders like a ton of bricks. Hotch literally groaned.

“Are you alright, son?”

“I'm sorry, Ambassador Prentiss.” He slowly stood from the chair. “I must’ve fallen asleep.”

“It’s alright, Aaron. Can we step outside and talk for a moment?”

Hotch nodded, glancing at Emily once more before leaving the room. Natalie Prentiss was sitting in the waiting area; it was obvious she’d been crying. He looked at her, saw her anguish, and broke down. Gregory Prentiss grabbed him before he crumbled to the ground.

“It’s going to be alright, Aaron. We’re going to get through this.”

 _You don’t know that_ , his mind screamed. He couldn’t speak, just sob, as he thought about the scene he walked in on this morning. Emily was scared but she never stopped fighting. She had been stabbed, sexually assaulted, but didn’t give up. Emily was strong but he was weak. Dammit, he had to get it together…had to be strong for her. Pulling away from Emily’s father, Hotch turned his back to him. He took the handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his messy face.

“I'm sorry about that. I'm sorry sir.”

“I understand. Sit down, Aaron.”

He did, trying his best to give a smile to Natalie. She returned it. Then she reached for his hand.

“We know that you did everything you could to protect Emily, Aaron.” She said in her perfect British accent. It hadn't faded at all over the years even though she’d been away from home since she was 18 years old. “Her father and I always pray for her safety but we know our daughter. She wanted to be in the FBI and she became an Agent knowing the dangers full well.”

Hotch nodded, hardly hearing what she said.

“Did someone call the other Ambassador Prentiss?” He asked, not knowing what else to say.

“Erin Strauss called us and my ex-wife as well. She’s in Barcelona so it’ll take some time for her to get here.” Gregory cleared his throat. “This is going to be difficult, for all of us, but I need you to tell us what happened to Emily.”

***

It was a rare, stormy day in Scottsdale. The weatherman predicted a quarter inch to a half inch of rain that day, which was a big deal in the area. The dark clouds gave Hotch a chance to get some rest. He was in the world’s most uncomfortable chair but he managed to fall asleep.

True to his word, Hotch hadn't left Emily’s bedside in two days. Her mother, father, and stepmother came everyday. They got progress reports from the doctors and held their own vigils. Hotch told the doctors and nurses that he was Emily’s husband and they weren't to mention anything about sexual assault to her parents. No one questioned him and he didn’t mind the lie.

He wished he could forget the words but he couldn’t. It wasn’t the way JJ told him but how Ellen did. She boasted about it and the scene played repeatedly in his mind. In his nightmares, and that’s what they were, he never got to Emily in time. When he found her she’d been raped and slaughtered just like the other victims.

He always woke in a cold sweat, terrified. This morning was no different except that Emily was staring at him when he woke with a start. For a moment they just looked at each other. The silence in the room was screaming. Then Hotch seemed to come back to reality. He moved his chair over to her hospital bed, smiling as he took her hand.

“Hey there.” He whispered.

“Hi.”

“It’s so good to see you. It’s really good to see your eyes.”

“Where am I?” Emily asked. Her throat still felt so raw. She felt as if it would never be right again. The thought of someone actually trying to choke the life out of her made Emily shudder. That wasn’t all Ellen Ortiz had done to her. She pulled her hand away from Hotch, turning away from him and looking at the ceiling.

“You're in the hospital, Emily.” He got her a cup of water and a straw. “They had to sedate you and you’ve been under for two days. The team was here but they had to go back to Quantico. Your family is here as well. I should probably call them…”

“Don’t,” She couldn’t raise her voice and when she shook her head it hurt. She just handed him the cup. “I don’t want them to see me this way.”

“They’ve been here since you were attacked.” Hotch replied.

“They know what happened to me?” There was terror in her voice.

“They know you were attacked. I told the doctors not to be descriptive.”

“Thank you.”

“We were so worried about you.” Hotch reached out, thought about it, and pulled his hand back. She didn’t want his touch. That hurt but he could live with it right now. “I was so worried about you.”

Emily didn’t say anything for a long time and Hotch let her have the silence. He knew he should probably tell the nurse or doctor that she was awake. They would come in, poking and prodding her. That was the last thing she needed right now. She needed the silence and this time he wouldn’t let her down.

“You should leave.” She finally said.

“I didn’t hear you, Em.”

“I said you should leave. You need to get back to Quantico. You need to get back…”

“I don’t care about that.” Hotch cut her off. “I've been in this chair for two days. I care about you; I love you. That wasn’t Bill Warner talking, it was Aaron Hotchner. I thought you knew that.”

“Well I want you to leave, Hotch. If you love me then you'll leave. I don’t want you here. Just go.”

The words came like a slap in the face. He knew it was shame, pain and trauma. He knew it was useless to try and change her mind. He wanted to but she’d been through enough. Hotch wouldn’t force his company on her.

“I’ll leave then.” He stood from the chair. “If you need me I’ll come back but I’ll leave now.”

He left the room without looking back. Out in the waiting room he called her stepmother.

“Emily’s awake and she needs you.” He said.

“Is she alright?” Natalie asked.

He could hear her moving around the hotel room.

“She told me to leave. Emily cannot be alone right now…she wants me to leave.”

“I'm on my way. Don’t leave until I get there Aaron.”

“I'm not going anywhere.” He said those words to Emily almost a week ago, in her arms. Nothing would stop him from keeping them.

***

Hotch paced and lingered around the hospital for the next three days. Emily was a horrible patient but surely the doctors and nurses were used to that kind of behavior. She let her parents see her after a few hours of solitude. Elizabeth seemed offended when her daughter told her that she loved her but wanted her to go. Gregory handled it a little better, telling her that he was just a phone call away.

Natalie stayed at her stepdaughter’s request. Hotch was happy for the company. He refused to leave but kept his distance. Emily was given medication to sleep so he always sat with her for a little while at night. He knew he was deliberately disobeying her but just couldn’t go.

“I'm checking her out this morning.” Natalie said as Hotch sipped his second cup of coffee. It was Friday morning, 6am…he didn’t know the last time he really slept. “You need to go home, Aaron.”

“I'm fine.”

“You are not fine. You haven’t slept in days, you're living off coffee, and between you and me you smell a little, love.”

Hotch smirked and then laughed a bit.

“I tried to leave. I bet you didn’t even know but I got downstairs and out the door. I turned around and came right back. I couldn’t do it.”

“Well now you have to. Emily will be discharged and I'm taking her somewhere to rest and recover. Section Chief Strauss has given her thirty days leave.”

“I got the same when I was stabbed.” Hotch muttered.

“You deserve some now as well.”

“I'm fine, ma'am.”

“And the conversation comes full circle. Go home, Aaron.” Natalie kissed his cheek. “Emily is going to be alright. When she has some time to rest and think I'm sure she’ll reach out to you. You know how she feels about you. I'm sure she knows that you never left her side. Now you have to give her some space to recover.”

Hotch nodded. He went into her room once more, looked at her sleeping. He didn’t want to frighten her or for her to feel as if she was being watched. It was so hard not to hold on and never let her go. The closeness they shared for the last month, he didn’t know if it was real or not. The closeness of those nights they made love and held each other would forever live in his memory. Hotch needed the good thoughts to keep the demons at bay.

Pushing those feelings aside wasn’t going to be easy but it was time to walk away. Natalie was right…he needed to shower. He needed real food and real sleep. Nodding, Hotch turned and walked to the door. Emily’s soft, sleepy voice made him stop.

“Have a safe flight, you hard headed man.”

He smiled but didn’t respond. She didn’t want him to, he knew her well, but it was so good to hear her voice. Hotch would use it to guide him home.

***

He was returning to work on Monday. Strauss sent Hotch home for 14 days when he returned to Quantico from Scottsdale. He needed to rest and prepare himself to return to the rigors of FBI field work. At least that’s what she said when he was called to her office. Hotch just sat there, not really listening to the conversation, and then went home. The first three days of his leave found him nervous and jittery.

He paced a lot. Eating and sleeping were not done with any regularity. Hotch would stare off into space and try to stop his mind from going back to that upstairs hallway on Forest Lane. He felt out of control but could do nothing to help it. The following Tuesday he hit the ground, literally. Lying on his bedroom floor, listening to the thunder clap above him, Hotch made two phone calls.

The first was Natalie Prentiss. She was polite as always but rather vague. Emily was coming along, working on things. She used phrases that meant nothing to him. She promised to give Emily his love. Hotch didn’t want to relay that message through her stepmother.

He felt guilty putting Natalie in such a position but had no choice. Trying to reach Emily was a violation of the boundary she set up. He couldn’t do that and expect her to ever trust him again. If it was one thing they only did in extreme circumstances, it was cross established boundaries. His muddled feelings didn’t qualify as extreme.

The second phone call was to Dr. Kaye Klosterman. She’d been Hotch’s shrink on and off since Haley walked out on him. She used to work for the Bureau. She did Agent evaluations and worked with them after traumas or shootings.

Kaye went into private practice almost six years ago. He knew he needed to talk; Hotch just had no idea what to say. Kaye was used to that. She set him up with a Monday appointment; he felt a little better.

He could spout off a rant in her office. He could feel angry, helpless, or a little bit of both. It wasn’t anything she hadn't seen before in him or any of her patients. Hotch knew he couldn’t get to the other side of this alone. His carelessness almost cost Emily her life.

How could he live with himself after that? How could he lead his team, his unit, if he wasn’t on point anymore? No more people needed to die because of him. He’d already hurt so many; it was time to step back and let someone less damaged take the reins for a while.

The second half of the week and the rest of his time off, Hotch focused on being a dad. He picked Jack up from school on Friday. They went to the movies on Saturday and played Star Wars on Sunday. He wasn’t sure how concerned he should be that Jack insisted on being Darth Vader when they played. After a while Hotch figured out it was because the little boy was fascinated by the deep breathing.

During the week they made dinner together. That gave them the chance to talk about life, school, and anything else Jack had on his mind. He loved having his father’s full attention, even if he knew it was only for a little while. His son had just turned five…he was growing up so fast.

Jack had a vast, first hand knowledge of monsters and what they were capable of. That was something his father could no longer shield him from. Yet his giggle when he watched senseless cartoons about a sponge was infectious. He helped his dad read him bedtime stories and prayed for his mother’s soul every night before closing his eyes.

It was a rainy Thursday when Hotch’s cell phone rang. He’d just put Jack to bed and was emptying the dishwasher. When he saw the name on the display his chores became an afterthought.

“Natalie? Is everything alright?”

“Its Emily, Hotch.”

“Oh.” He was stunned into virtual silence.

“Hello? Hotch?”

“I'm here, Emily. I just…”

“You were expecting my stepmother. At least you didn’t answer the phone with ‘hey baby’ or ‘I can't stop thinking about you’.”

“We do our best to be discreet.” He replied with a smirk. “There are other people to consider.”

“Do you have a few minutes to talk?” She asked.

“Absolutely.” He poured himself a drink at the mini-bar and went into his bedroom. He sat in the chair by the open window. Jack always called it his thinking chair. There was surely a lot to think about right now. The drink went on the table beside him. “How are you?”

“I'm OK.”

“Can I press you a little to elaborate?”

“You can ask me a question. I’ll try my best to answer honestly.” Emily replied.

“I hardly know what to ask. Are you healing OK?”

“The shoulder wound’s gonna leave a nasty scar but I plan to use this cream Nat swears by to help it fade. The stitches in my arm will dissolve by themselves, which is equally freaky and fascinating. I spend too much time staring at them and I don’t know how to stop. Nat’s going home tomorrow so I'm not quite sure how I'm going to handle being alone all the time. I have George with me but he runs away when I cry.”

“Where are you?” Hotch asked. She shouldn’t be alone when she cried. It wasn’t right.

“I'm in New York. It’s my home away from home you know. I could’ve gone anywhere in the world but I just wanted to be here. No place is more beautiful than autumn in New York.”

“Is it raining much there? It hasn’t seemed to stop here for the past week.”

“Yes it is, and I love it. When I was in Arizona…”

Emily stopped abruptly and Hotch thought his heart did too. He could hear the pain in her raspy breaths. Then she cleared her throat.

“I have a little bone to pick with you, Agent Hotchner.”

“What did I do?”

She was taking the conversation in another direction. He wasn’t sure that was the best idea but he would go with the flow. As long as she was talking Hotch was prepared to listen.

“Erin Strauss didn't come here and offer me a spiffy retirement package.” She said. “I waited for days and there was nothing. I even prepared a full speech to rebuke her, ala Susan Hayward in Valley of the Dolls but she never showed. She sent a lovely get well soon card that actually seemed sincere though.”

“You're too young to retire.” Hotch replied. “You’ve got a hell of a lot of fight left in you. I on the other hand…”

“What about you?”

“I miss you. I don’t want to go back to Quantico and look at your empty desk.” He said. “I don’t want to be out there in the field without you. Your strength, Emily, your soul and your empathy are essential to our team’s success. They’re essential to me. Believe me, I'm not rushing you. I just…”

“I understand what you're saying.”

“You do?”

“I miss you guys. I miss work…something to focus my mind on. I miss Garcia’s sparkly pens and Morgan’s shoulder to lean on. I miss giggling at hearing Rossi snore through thin hotel walls and actually beating Reid at something once in a while. I miss JJ; she’s my sister. I miss you too.” Emily cleared her throat. “The reasons for that are immeasurable.”

They were silent for a little while, listened to each other breathe. Hotch sipped his drink and imagined what Emily was doing. He’d never seen her parents’ Upper West Side condo. He knew it had a view of Central Park.

Was it as lovely as her view of the Capitol? Was she relaxing on the couch with her cat or curled in bed listening to the rain fall. Was she wearing strange slippers like bear paws or pajamas made of silk? Was she standing in front of a mirror wondering if she would ever know her skin again?

“Maybe you could come and visit me this weekend.” She said. “You could plan a day trip.”

“I can't think of anywhere else I’d rather be.” Hotch replied.

“I'm not taking you away from Jack, am I? You’re already away from him too much, Hotch.”

“He’ll be with Jessie this weekend. She wants to take him to the zoo before it gets too cold. They’re actually doing that on Saturday.”

“Are you sure I'm not taking up important time?” she asked.

“You are important to me, Emily. I’ll tell you how much when I see you.”

“I feel the same way.” She took a deep breath. “I should probably let you go.”

“Don’t…I'm sorry.” He pulled back. Pushing her right now was not an option. It wasn’t her fault he’d danced around for over four years. After all that happened it was going to be even harder to transition into something more than teammates. Hotch had no intention of giving up though. The ball was in his court; it had been for some time. He needed to put his all into winning the game. “Should I come on Saturday?”

“There's a café in the Village called Little Manhattan. Meet me outside at one o’clock.”

“I’ll be there. Goodnight Emily, sweet dreams.”

“Goodnight.”

She cut their connection and Hotch sat there with the phone in his hand. He didn’t know if she was OK or not OK. Emily’s compartmentalization skills were legendary. Over the years Hotch had gotten better at reading her eyes, no matter what her mouth said. He would try to do that when he saw her on Saturday.

It was important to him that she was progressing in her recovery. He knew what it was like to be violated; attacked somewhere you thought you were safe. Hotch knew that he still thought about it, dreamed about it, and suffered the consequences of it. He knew he did much of that alone. He didn’t want that for Emily. She wasn’t alone.

Her calling him tonight opened the door to let him in. He could step inside without overstepping. He needed to be there for her, as a friend, like she had been there for him more times than he could count. Whatever came after would come. They weren't Bill and Susan Warner, the newlyweds who couldn’t get enough of each other. But that didn’t mean Aaron Hotchner and Emily Prentiss didn’t want to see what the future held for them.

***


End file.
